Smoke and Mirrors
by crowlow
Summary: Grimmjow Jeagerjaques is taken into custody after the war, and held within the 12th Division for study. What happens when he meets Akon, a seemingly aloof researcher?
1. Chapter 1

It's late at night when I enter the Twelfth Division's Research Institute. It seems the other researchers have already called it a day: the place is empty with the exception of myself. I'm glad because I wanted to see the thing one last time before getting some shut eye. And by myself, without the others around to bother me.

Once the war was over, Kurotsuchi-taichou returned to soul society with a few interesting finds from Hueco Mundo. Among those interesting finds was a living Espada. I thought for sure that captain commander would've ordered the Arrancar killed, but he allowed Kurotsuchi-taichou to take it into custody. The fallen Espada was found half dead in the desert, or so I was told. I can imagine my Taicho's elation at getting his hands on a living, breathing Arrancar.

When the Gotei 13 returned to Soul Society, my captain's findings were immediately brought to the Twelfth Division. We're currently holding the former Esapda here in the research institute. We've put a collar around its throat to limit its reiatsu, and at the moment it's being confined to the laboratories. I haven't seen much of the thing in the past week since it's arrived (I've been busy with other research), but from what I have seen of it... it's a primal looking beast. Tall, nimble form, electric blue hair, scars covering the expanse of its toned torso. Not to mention the fragment of bone attached to its jaw, the remnant of its Hollow mask, and the ever present, feral grin. I've seen first hand that it has a pretty mean disposition, too.

It piques my interests, and that's why I'm here tonight. I've never seen an Arrancar up close, let alone one of the Espada. To a scientist such as myself, it's fascinating to see a hollow creature that developed to be so..._human-like_.

From what I understand it used to be the Sexta Espada. There's even a gothic six tattooed on its lower back. Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez. The name itself is something primal, and no matter how you say it, it ends like a growl on your tongue. Everything about the former Espada makes me think of a wild cat prowling the jungle. From its name, to its strong, agile movements, to the way it snarls and snaps its teeth.

As I enter the room where Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez is being held, I reach out to flick on the lights. Towards the back of the room a bright, white glow bursts into life. I see a shock of blue, the Arrancar suddenly alert, its head lifting. I feel the heat of predatory eyes on me, think that I may even hear a hoarse grunt. I remain silent as I close the door, and I leave the rest of the room's lighting dimmed low. The thing is being kept in a cell against the back of the room, behind a large pane of glass that stretches from floor to ceiling. There's a small cot in the corner where it can sleep, a toilet in the other corner, and nothing else. I imagine that when (and if) my captain is done studying the former Espada, it will be moved to a regular cell in a different division.

Walking closer to the cell, I reach up to retrieve the cigarette hanging between my lips. I hold it between long fingers as I exhale, a cloud of smoke billowing around my face. The Espada's eyes are watching my every movement, and I notice the slide of strong muscles as they draw tight. The thing is tense and alert, but at the same time I feel confidence wafting from it, scratching at the air. It doesn't look frightened at all. In fact, it looks excitable, like it's been waiting for something to come along this entire time.

The Arrancar stands up abruptly and stalks forward, its pale eyes never leaving me. It comes to halt in front of the glass, and its eyes turn to slits when I bring the cigarette back to my mouth. Large hands shoot up, fleshy palms going white as they splay over the glass. I notice the tips of its fingers curl slightly, and it looks as if it wants to paw at the barrier keeping us apart, like a kitten pawing at its scratch post.

"The fuck is that?" it barks, and coming from the Espada it's more of a demand than a query. My hairless brow arches ever so slightly, but in the low lighting of the lab it probably won't notice. Its gaze is too intent on my mouth, fiery eyes studying the stick nestled between my lips. I think it's strange that such blue, cold looking eyes can blaze so hotly.

"This?" I ask simply, pinching the cigarette between my fingers and holding it up. Cat-like eyes glint, scorching my hand with their heat. The Arrancar leans closer to the glass and tilts its head upwards, nostrils flaring slightly as if it's smelling something.

"Yea, _that_," it mutters. "What else would I be talking about?" Once more its gaze is back on my face, agitation burning in those icy depths. Like I said earlier, I haven't been around this Arrancar for very long. But I knew from day one that it was the type of creature that's easily frustrated, especially when things don't go exactly the way it wants them to; _when _it wants them too. Its brash temper is fun to observe, I decide, so I stare at it for a little while longer, not saying anything. Pale eyes narrow even further, further than I thought possible, and a low snarl slips between grit teeth.

"THE FUCK IS IT?" The former Espada bellows, slamming its fist against the glass. I'm finding its behavior more amusing by the minute, and I flick ash from my cigarette while forcing down a chuckle. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, though my lips never part, and my eyes remain impassive. I watch the Arrancar as it begins stalking back and forth, its chest heaving slightly, eyes gone wide as it stares at me. The thing looks furious, like if it weren't behind that pane of glass it'd have those strong hands clasped around my throat. The idea intrigues me.

I remain silent as I bring the cancer stick to my mouth once more. I cradle it between my lips, licking around the edge just barely with the tip of my tongue before sucking it farther into my mouth. The Arrancar's pacing slows, angry gaze shifting from my eyes to my mouth. I see its nose twitch, a sinuous tongue darting out to swipe over a parched bottom lip. My eyelids droop at the action, and I take a long, deep drag - drawing the nicotine into my mouth, down my throat; into my lungs. I hold it there for a few seconds before allowing myself to exhale, smoke flowing from my nose as I sigh in contentment.

Once again the thing is pressed up against the glass. It watches the smoke float upwards, the look on its face a mixture of hunger, curiosity, and that ever present anger.

"What is it?" the former Espada mutters for a third time. Its gravelly voice sounds distant, but there's still a bite to its tone. Scarred hands claw at the glass, those defiant eyes glued to my mouth and the object of its current fascination. I watch that gaze with an interest of my own, pulling more nicotine into my system before I finally respond.

"A cigarette. I'm assuming you didn't have them in Hueco Mundo?"

Taking a step closer to the glass, I roll the cancer stick between calloused finger tips. The Arrancar studies my every move beneath furrowed brows, and it straightens up to its full height at my approach. I can see the scar on its torso rising and falling with every breath it takes.

I take a final drag of my cigarette, this time holding the smoke inside my mouth as I lean closer to the glass. I hold that heated gaze with my own and part my lips, blowing the smoke over the glass, clouds of gray blotting its face from view.

"If you play nice, maybe I'll let you have one, some day."

The Espada's reaction is instant, lips pulling into a dangerous grin over equally dangerous teeth. "_Fuck you_," it growls at me, voice raspy and low like rocks scrapping over pavement. The bone jaw adorning its face makes that grin look even larger and more menacing than it already does. It punches the glass hard enough to rattle the entire surface, and for a moment I think that it might actually break through. Then those deadly eyes begin roving over my body, an almost-leer on the Arrancar's face.

"You don't even have a zanpakutou. Ain'chya a _shinigami_? Don't think I can't get one'a those _cigarettes _on my own. When I get outta here I'll be on you with my fist through your chest so fuckin' fast that you won't even know what hit ya."

I watch the former Espada for a long moment, expressionless. The thing stares back at me, its eyes never leaving mine, that wild grin stretching its mouth from ear to ear. Its chest is heaving faintly and excitement is rolling off its muscled form in waves. When I'm satisfied with my observation, I let a small smile brush the corner of my mouth. It's more of a smirk than a smile.

"We'll see about that, Arrancar."

Without another word I turn away, bringing the cigarette back to my lips as I slowly make my exit. I hear the creature behind me give a barking laugh, the sound like a roar, its fists banging against the glass. I ignore the racket it makes, never mind the smile on my mouth as I switch off the laboratory lights and close the door behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days have passed since I last saw the Arrancar known as Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. In those two days the thing has undergone countless experiments and tests. I'm assuming that during its first week here, Kurotsuchi-taichou spent most of his time studying the other "spoils of war" from Hueco Mundo. What little experiments had been done on the former Espada in that first week, were now heightened tenfold.

I wasn't around for most of them; my captain likes it better when he can oversee those proceedings on his own. And by "on his own," I mean with Kurotsuchi Nemu trailing his side. It really doesn't bother me any and I've been able to do my own work in relative peace. There is however a howl every now and then; a roar, a bark of unrestrained laughter. That last sound has a small smirk tugging at my lips, despite myself.

I don't really know what Kurotsuchi-taichou's been doing to the Arrancar. Naturally, I'm curious. Curious about what studies have been conducted, and how the former Espada has performed. Or if it has at all, the thing seems pretty stubborn. I imagine it gives my captain a good run for his money. And judging by the noises I hear every thirty minutes, the thing has yet to be beaten into submission. Kurotsuchi Mayuri has a cruel way about him, especially when it comes to observing his specimens, so it's pretty impressive that Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is still able to laugh.

Leaning back in my chair, I fight down a yawn and reach over to tap my cigarette over a small ashtray. While contemplating taking a break from my research, I hear faint voices coming from the hallway outside. I remain silent as I listen, soon realizing that it's both the captain and vice-captain. I can't tell what they're saying, but I know it's them, and every now and then I hear an uttered "Espada." When their voices grow distant, to the point that they fade completely, I snub my cigarette and get up. Walking to the door I slide it open quietly, before sticking my head into an empty hallway. For a minute I wait, considering the situation, briefly wondering where they went. Then before I know it, I'm closing the door behind me and making my way towards the research room where Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is being held.

This time I don't have to switch on the lights. That glow at the back of the room is already burning brightly. The Arrancar looks in my direction when I enter the room, and I hear it growl lowly, the sound coming from somewhere deep in its throat. I tuck my hands inside of my lab coat as I near the pane of glass, and I can't help but finger the pack of smokes resting in the pocket.

"I didn't expect ya back so soon," the former Espada mutters. Its characteristic grin creeps into view. "Miss me?"

"Not precisely," I respond, tilting my head just a little. "I was wondering what all the noise was about."

Eyeing the creature before me, I notice that the white jacket of its old uniform has been removed, and that its torso is covered in stitches. The flesh of each wound is pink and raw around the edges, but it looks like they'll heal. The Arrancar leans forward on the cot where its sitting, large fists resting on its knees. It stares at me beneath furrowed brows and offers a sly smirk.

"What kind of shinigami are you, anyway? I've never seen one like you, let alone fight one. I still gotta figure out where your fuckin' zanpakutou is."

I study the thing for a moment, quietly drumming my fingers over the pack in my pocket. "How would you know that? You can't determine that you've never fought a shinigami like me, because we've never fought before."

"Shut your trap!" the Arrancar snaps, jumping to its feet. It narrows its eyes at me and stalks closer to the barrier between us. "Show me your goddamn zanpakutou!"

My brow arches, however faintly. "I don't know why it's so important to you."

"It's important 'cause shinigami are s'posed to have fuckin' zanpakutous!" the Arrancar barks back. "If you don't have one, it makes you weak. You're weak, ain'chya? That's why you spend all your time in this shit hole!"

"I spend all of my time here because this is my division," I state simply.

"I don't give two fucks what your division is."

Growling, the thing bares its teeth at me before stalking back to the tiny cot shoved in the corner. It sprawls on the shoddy mattress, showing me its back, its jaw resting on one of those large fists. At this angle I see even more stitched wounds stretching the expanse of its back. And now that I don't have those pale eyes to look at, I find myself staring through its hollow hole.

"What would you have done if they hadn't brought you here?"

The question is out of my mouth before I've even processed it. I'm not sure why I asked the Arrancar such a thing. I don't really care what it would have done. It was an enemy of Soul Society, possibly still is. Not to mention that whatever answer it gives me will be irrelevant, because fact of the matter is that it _was _brought here.

But the former Espada merely shrugs, digging a finger into its ear as it grunts, "Dunno. I would'a healed, then gone after that stupid orange-haired shinigami. I'll kill that fucker if it's the last thing I do."

At that, I find my brows knitting together. Orange-haired shinigami? Orange-haired shinigami. . . The only person with orange hair that comes to mind is. . . Kurosaki Ichigo. I've never met the kid personally, but everyone in Soul Society has heard his name. Who wouldn't remember one of the intruders that broke into Seireitei to save Kuchiki Rukia from execution?

"You mean Kurosaki Ichigo?" I ask, my eyes still trained on the blue-haired Arrancar. Its head gives a little twitch, and it twists around to look at me over its shoulder.

"You know 'im?"

I shake my head slowly. "Not really. I just know of him."

The former Espada flashes a sinister smirk. "Well, that dumb prick hasn't seen the last of me. When I get outta here I'll find him and settle the score."

"That's to say if you do get out of here."

"Eh."

Waving a hand dismissively, the thing flops onto its back and stretches out. "I think that yellow-toothed freak is runnin' outta things to poke an' prod at. I don't give two fucks about you shinigami, or your dumbass Soul Society, so you either kill me or lemme go."

I can't help myself, I have to arch an eyebrow. I stare at the Arrancar as it lays there, hands tucked behind its head and blue eyes trained on the ceiling. I don't really know how it came to _that _conclusion. Like Soul Society would really let an ex-Espada free to roam throughout Seireitei, or the Human World. An Arrancar is just as hazardous as a hollow, if not more so.

Exhaling softly, I glance off to the side and pull the pack of smokes from my pocket, unable to resist the urge any longer. I could tell the former Espada that there's really only one outcome it can look forward to: Extermination. But, why burst its bubble? I imagine the Arrancar's had it pretty bad this past month or so, and I think to myself that maybe just this once, I'll let the thing have some hope.

I'm still staring off, lost in my own thoughts as I stick a fresh cigarette between my lips. I let the flame of my lighter lick at the end, then inhale deeply, pulling smoke into my starving lungs. An instant calm washes over me, the feel of nicotine hitting my system so gratifying that I nearly miss Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez getting up. A hand slaps against the glass and I glance sideways so I can see the former Espada. Its staring at me with the same heat and hunger that I saw in its eyes a couple of days ago. I imagine that if it weren't for the red collar around its throat, that its reitasu would be flaring the same way that its eyes are.

"Another thing I'm gonna do when I get outta here," the Arrancar mutters, its voice dangerously low as it eyes my cigarette suggestively. "Just you wait, _shinigami_. I haven't forgotten."

A lazy smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth. I roll the cigarette between my fingers, before tilting my head. I regard the thing in front of me, note the odd colored hair, the burly build, the hollow hole, the bone jaw. Last of all those seemingly cold looking eyes; the ones that burn like fire.

"I don't think you'd like it, Jaegerjaquez."

Its gaze narrows, and it pushes its fist against the glass like it wants to push straight on through and slug me. I can't really tell if the Arrancar is scowling at me or just grinning evilly, but I've a feeling that with Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, there isn't much of a difference between two.

"That a fuckin' challenge?"

"It's whatever you take it to be."

I flick ash from my cigarette, watch the dark particles hit the glass in front of the Arrancar's face. It gives a quick jerk, its blue eyes widen, and then its lips are pulling back in the mother of all snarls.

"You think you're hot shit right now," the thing hisses. "We'll see how fuckin' strong ya feel when this-" and here it slams a fist into the wall of glass between us, "-isn't there to protect you!"

Bringing the cigarette back to my mouth, I stare at the former Espada calmly while it rants. I take a deep drag and I don't hesitate to exhale, letting a plume of silver flow from my nose and lips. As I predicted, the thing slows to a standstill, its anger forgotten as it stares. I don't know what its fascination is with smoke, but I can't say it doesn't amuse me.

I offer a small nod in way of goodbye, decide that I'll ignore its threat, before turning around and heading for the door. It's silent behind me until my hand is on the doorknob, and then I hear a growled, "Turn the fuckin' lights off, will ya?"

Pausing with the door halfway open, I take a moment to analyze that request. Then with a mental shrug, I switch the lights off and leave the former Espada alone in darkness.

* * *

A few more hours go by, and it isn't until late into the evening that I decide I'm due for some rest. I gather my research papers neatly, before tucking them underneath my arm and leaving the Research Institute. The streets of Seireitei are near empty, and the sky above is a dusky aubergine. I take my time strolling through Twelfth on my way to the barracks. When I get to my room I undress in the dark, dig my cigarettes out of my lab coat, then toss my clothes onto the floor before sitting down on my futon.

As I lay back on the mattress, I find myself thinking about the Sexta Espada. I wonder what it does when it's alone at night, trapped in the laboratory. I can't imagine it does much with the little it has. Every time I've gone to observe it, it's been sitting on the cot, still and quiet. It wasn't until I appeared that it came alive. . . The implications there make me frown, and I stick a cigarette between my lips before lighting the end.

It must be a strange existence, being an Arrancar. To be a hollow creature that obtained shinigami powers. To then enter a war under the command of a stranger. And when that war ends, to be taken into custody by the enemy, and locked away to be studied like some alien animal. I'd never really thought about it before, but here in the quiet of my room, with the night's shadows cloaking me, that's where my mind wanders. To the strange existence that is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Some would think he's fortunate to still be alive, but I wonder if he isn't unlucky. If our positions were reversed, I think I'd envy the other Arrancar that died in battle.

And it's right then that my brain stops all together, and I go completely still on the futon. Did I really refer to the former Espada as a _he,_ just then? Sure, alright, I'll admit that it at least _looks _like a he. Its appearance is undeniably male, of that there is no doubt. But even still, it is not a he. It isn't like me, or my fellow shinigami, or even like the humans. It's just a thing that was created to do Aizen's bidding.

Sighing to myself tiredly, I turn on my side and reach up to pinch my cigarette between my middle and forefinger. I close my eyes as I draw on it deeply, and when I exhale I exhale loudly, breathing countless things I can't quite name into the air. I grab the ashtray from off the floor and snub the cigarette out, then set the ashtray back down and pull the sheets over my half naked body. I turn my thoughts away from Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, then settle into the futon, hoping for a decent sleep.

* * *

In the morning, it isn't the sunlight through the shouji that wakes me. It's the feel of something foreign. Something foreign but eerily familiar. Something I recognize, but that doesn't belong in my room. I open my eyes slowly and my vision is blurry with sleep, but I'm still able to make out a shock of blue. I'm laying on my side, and sitting just a few feet away from my futon is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. I'm so stunned to see the former Espada in my room that I can't even move. I just lay there and stare at his unexpectedly intrusive figure. He's turned at an angle so I can see the side of his face, and that ghost of a hollow mask is staring straight back at me.

I open my mouth to say something. I know what I _should _say, but for whatever reason, nothing comes out. My breathing is calm, I can feel my heart beating normally, but my mind is reeling. The former Espada sitting beside my futon is so unexpected that I'm still playing catchup.

Because my brain won't function properly - and because I feel glued to the futon - I settle for just watching the Arrancar. He's sitting there with legs crossed, my ashtray in front of him, and my pack of smokes in his hand. I watch as he pushes the lid open and pulls out a single cigarette. He rolls it between strong fingers, rolls it like he's assessing it; the feel of it, the look of it. Then he brings it up and drags it under his nose, inhaling as deeply as I do when I'm smoking one. Up until now I've been perfectly still, and despite my surprise at having him here, I've been able to keep my breathing (and my reiatsu) at a level that resembles sleep. But, when the former Espada brings the end of my cigarette to his mouth, his tongue peeking out to touch the tobacco, it's too much. Especially when he makes a weird face and jerks his head away, like he's just been hit with a brick.

It's that expression alone that wrings a chuckle from my otherwise frozen form.

His head whips around as soon as the sound leaves my mouth, blue eyes going incredibly wide. I see nearly every muscle in his body pull tight with tension, suddenly on the alert. In that moment I really have no clue what he's going to do, but it's the least of my worries when I spy something strange. The collar around his throat is gone. My hairless brow shoots up and I swing my legs over the futon so I'm sitting up instead of laying down. At the same time he disappears, and the next moment I see him he's standing in front of the shouji. He stares at me beneath furrowed brows and holds the cigarette up.

"Didn't believe me, did ya?" the Arrancar growls, a smug grin splitting his face in two. "Told you I'd get my hands on one."

I start to get up from the futon, but my body is sluggish from sleep (and from the shock that won't wear off, apparently). I take a step forward but it's already too late. The former Espada slides the screen door open and sunlight floods the room. I squint against the onslaught and I'm able to make out his silhouette, but a second later and he's gone.

Minutes go by as I stand there, staring at the spot where the blue-haired Arrancar just was. My eyes slowly adjust to the light and I don't have to squint anymore. For a moment I believe I'm dreaming, believe it enough that relief starts to settle in, but that's before I feel Hisagi Shuuhei's presence behind me. I glance over my shoulder at the sudden intrusion, and see him standing there with the Sixth's captain: Kuchiki Byakuya. Looks like they came in through the second shouji, opposite the one that Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez used to escape.

"Akon," the younger man murmurs, dark brows knit together in a soft frown. "The Arrancar, he was here."

It sounds like the captain of the Ninth Division doesn't know whether that's a question or a statement, so I nod my head in confirmation. I lift my hand sluggishly and point towards the open shouji door.

"Yeah, but. . .it just left. With one of my cigarettes, too."

Hisagi gives a minute nod, before he and Kuchiki-taichou disappear in the direction that Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez went.


	3. Chapter 3

I learn later from Hisagi that Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was taken for questioning after his recapture. Normal protocol would have lead him to Central 46, but because they were massacred by Aizen, that leaves the captain-commander in charge. I'm willing to admit that I'm a little nervous. I don't know how the Soutaichou plans on interrogating the former Espada. Yamamoto was killed during the war, and since then the three eldest captains have taken over his duties. It seems that Ukitake Juushirou has supreme authority between the three of them, and though I know the white-haired captain to have a relatively kind demeanor, I can't help thinking that this will be the end of the Arrancar. After the stunt he pulled, death can't be too far in the future. It's a little disappointing - I was just starting to have fun observing the thing. But I resign myself to his hopeless fate. I knew all along that Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez would be exterminated at one point or another. The fact that it doesn't come as a surprise dulls the upset, somewhat.

Having resolved that in my mind, I focus my thoughts elsewhere. I'm dying to know how the Arrancar got free. Not only did he get out of the Research Institute, but he managed to rid himself of the reiatsu limiter. I asked Hisagi directly if he knew how it happened, but he denied knowing anything. Of course Kuchiki Byakuya wasn't anywhere to be seen after they took Jaegerjaquez to the captain-commander, so I didn't have a chance to ask him. Like he would've told me anything good, anyway.

The rest of Soul Society doesn't seem to be aware of the situation. If they are, it's been swept under the rug. Then again, it's not like it needs anyone's attention. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez has already been repossessed, so there isn't a threat. Honestly, I doubt that anyone besides myself, Hisagi, Kuchiki, and maybe a few others even know of the hiccup.

Of course I'd ask Kurotsuchi-taichou (or Nemu) about the escape, but I haven't seen hide nor hair of them all day. It has me wondering if my captain was taken for questioning as well. It wouldn't be surprising; the Arrancar was under _his _care, after all.

I frown to myself softly, arms crossed over my chest. I'm in the lab room where Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was being held. I came here to find any possible clues, hoping for something to shed light on the current situation. The first thing I noticed upon entering was the pane of glass. It's shattered in the middle, and the edges are blackened. There's equipment around the lab that's been broken or overturned. The most interesting thing, however, is the reiatsu limiter lying on the floor of his cell. It's been split in half, and shards of it are scattered over white tile.

Oddly enough, it isn't the destruction that gets to me. It's the cold emptiness of the room. It feels hollow and lifeless, and the air is stale with the scent of artificial things and the stink of smoke. Standing here staring into an empty cell, it's suddenly, glaring obvious just how much energy and presence the Sexta Espada had.

Just as I'm thinking that, I feel something (or someone) lurking behind me. I turn my head to look over my shoulder, and I see my captain standing in the doorway. His arms are hanging at his sides, and his large head is tipped forward. I can't see him that well in the low light of the laboratory, but I can imagine the look on his face: one of false impassivity. Behind him there is a smaller shadow, and I know that it must be Nemu.

"Taichou," I mumble lowly, turning around to face him completely. I uncross my arms and transfer my hands to the pockets of my uniform. The man in front of me doesn't lend a response, but I hear a drawled "hmph" as he walks closer so he's standing beside me. Once again I turn, keeping my eyes on Kurotsuchi Mayuri as we both face the abandoned cell. He stares through the hole in the glass, and a curious smile begins to form on his painted face. I know from personal experience that his toothy grin isn't a pleasant one.

"The Espada went to your rooms," the older man states, and in his tone I spy curiosity, along with something a little sinister. It sounds to me like there's a dark intrigue simmering in that scientific mind of his.

I settle for a small nod, resisting the urge to cross my arms once more. I rub my fingers over the pack of smokes in my pocket, using the circular motion to distract and soothe me. When I open my mouth I feel the beginnings of the word "he" on my tongue, and I have to pause for a moment to recollect my thoughts.

"It did," I say after a moment, my eyes drifting sideways so I can see Kurotsuchi Mayuri. "It stole a cigarette from me, but it wasn't in my room long before taking off."

"I wonder why it would visit you of all people," the painted scientist drawls, an air of laziness to his words. I can tell by the look in his yellow eyes that his tone betrays him, and that he's anything _but _lazy.

I shrug faintly and try to appear nonchalant. "I observed the Arrancar twice, and both times it seemed fairly interested in my cigarettes. It told me more than once that it'd get its hands on one. I imagine that's why it came to my room."

"Why didn't you indulge its interests?" the man questions, and it's all I can do not to furrow my brows. I glance at him quizzically and he gives me a look that suggests he's dealing with an idiot. "You should have studied its mental and physical reaction to the tobacco."

My brows go up a little and I nod my head, mumbling a low, "Sorry, Taichou. I wasn't sure what experiments you were conducting, and I didn't want to intrude."

How could I tell Kurotsuchi Mayuri that I really _hadn't _thought of testing the Arrancar's reaction to tobacco? How could I tell him that I was, dare I say it, more interested in _teasing _the former Espada? Yes, that's right. "Teasing" isn't a word I normally use - it's not a part of my day-to-day vocabulary - but it's the only term I can think of to describe it. I had more interest in testing the man's violent temper than testing his physical reaction to any substance. I liked watching him stalk the cell in anger, staring at me with those predatory eyes, shouting threats and promises. _That's _the thing I liked studying, but the scientist beside me wouldn't understand that.

After a moment of silence, I turn so I'm facing the other man. "Kurotsuchi-taichou," I begin, as casually as possible, "I've been wondering how the Arrancar got free at all."

The twelfth division captain gives a little roll of his eyes, before that smile of his is slipping into view. His white hand comes up and he's points at the cell, the nail of his middle finger tapping the glass.

"It seems the reiatsu limiter malfunctioned, and it was able to break free."

I glance at the red collar lying on the floor. Malfunctioned. . .? For some reason, I'm finding that hard to believe. I'm finding it even harder to believe that Kurotsuchi Mayuri seems so unfazed by one of his specimens being gone.

"There was talk of moving the Arrancar to another division," he suddenly says, his arm hanging by his side once more. He walks away from the empty cell, moving around the rest of the room as he continues speaking. "Perhaps the rest of Soul Society has taken an interest in its fighting abilities, who's to say? But, now that it has broken free without permission, there can only be punishment. Either it is returned to our division, or it is executed."

As I listen to older man's words, things slowly start clicking into place. Could it be. . . Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez's escape was _staged_? My eyes widen slightly at the sudden revelation, and I'm glad that Kurotsuchi-taichou moved away so he can't see my reaction. _Of course. _It all makes perfect sense. With the prospect of losing one of his test subjects before he was through experimenting on it. . . Even if the Arrancar isn't returned to our division, my captain could still obtain the man's body after execution. And a dead body to study is better than no body at all.

I turn my head slowly so I can catch a glimpse of the man lurking behind me. I've had the time to school my features into cool indifference, but for some reason my heart's beating a little faster than it was a few minutes ago.

"Taichou-"

"Akon."

The way the older man utters my name stops me from saying anything more. Amber eyes are staring straight at me, beneath lids that are lazily drooped, and the look in that gaze is more dangerous than it should be. Especially when it's paired with such a sluggish expression.

"Need I remind you, that you are a member of the Twelfth Division's _Research_and Development Institute?"

I understand the meaning in those words, and I hear an unspoken warning in his tone. I twist the rest of my body so I'm facing him completely, before bowing my head in acquiescence.

"No, Taichou. You don't have to remind me."

The older man stares at me for a moment more, his yellow eyes still bright with something unsettling. Then his painted lips are pulling back over large teeth, and his smile is just short of being deranged. But, I've known Kurotsuchi Mayuri for over a hundred years, and that smile of his is something I've gotten used to.

"Tidy this place up."

Without another word my captain pivots, with Nemu following close behind as they leave the room. I stare at the open doorway for a minute or two, then sigh to myself quietly and get to work.

* * *

It isn't until the following morning that I find out what happened to Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Hisagi Shuuhei is the one who gives me the news. I can honestly say I've been more surprised in these few days knowing the former Espada than I have been in my entire life.

"They're making it a _shinigami_?"

The tattooed captain gives a slow nod, his dark eyes looking only _mildly _surprised. I put that down to the fact that he's probably had an hour or so to digest the information.

Just to make myself feel better.

"I don't know all the details, but that's the gist of it. At first I didn't believe it either, and then I found out that he'd already been escorted to the Third Division. The reiatsu limiter is back in place to keep him under control, but other than that. . .he's pretty much a free guy."

My face goes blank. I don't know if I'm experiencing a (temporary) mental shutdown, but I'm at a loss as to how to look, what to say, or what to think. I decide that this has to be some kind of weird prank.

"Pretty much a free guy?" I ask, my tone unreadable, even to myself.

"Well, of course we're keeping a close eye on him. He just isn't considered a prisoner of war. Or, at least, not to the point that we have to lock him up like one."

For a moment I just stare at the ninth division captain. I would have never thought that the _Arrancar_, the former _Sexta Espada_, would become a shinigami of Soul Society. There's just no way. Even if the blue-haired man _wanted _to be a shinigami (and that alone I can't believe), it wouldn't be allowed. It has to be against the law, right? Sure, he may have "shinigami" powers, but he still derived from a hollow for fuck's sake.

Something has to be going on. I pull a cigarette from my pack of smokes and I'm lighting it before it's even between my lips. I should be thankful, shouldn't I? I should be. . .no, I shouldn't be anything. Why should I care if Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez's life is spared? Why should I care if he's a shinigami like the rest of us?

I don't care.

I'm just a little taken aback. This is pretty much the last thing I expected to happen.

After taking a deep drag to calm my nerves, I glance at Hisagi. "It was taken to the Third?" The scarred man gives another one of his slow nods.

"Kira made the offer. They _are _looking for a new fukutaichou. . ."

"You can't be serious," I mumble, unable to put any real emotion into my voice. At this point I feel exhausted and I don't even have the energy to deal with this new development. I'm not used to this kind of emotional stimuli on a daily bases. The blue-haired Arrancar is really starting to throw me out of whack.

"I said they're _looking_, not that they've appointed him or even plan on doing so."

Hisagi leans against the table I'm sitting at, those dark eyes narrowing. "You know, I've never really seen you like this. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I reassure him, waving my hand dismissively and taking another drag of my cigarette. "I'm surprised. I didn't think that they'd ever consider making an Arrancar a shinigami."

Crossing muscled arms over a slim chest, the other man just nods. "I didn't think so either, but I'm not one to question it. If Ukitake-soutaichou doesn't see a problem with it. . . Besides, Jaegerjaquez has the limiter on. He can't do much damage like that; not to mention the fact that he's living in a city full of shinigami. He'd be stopped before he had the chance to start any real trouble."

"The collar malfunctioned once, it could happen again."

I know the collar didn't actually malfunction. I know that if it _did _happen to malfunction, that it was on purpose. Even still, I want to hear the other man's logical answer, because he seems to be full of them. It's starting to feel like I'm the only one that finds this whole idea a little crazy. But the strange look Hisagi sends my way has me wishing that I hadn't mentioned that small detail.

"In all these years I've never heard of one of those collars malfunctioning. It's a little weird. . ."

Taking one final drag of my cigarette, I crush it out in the ashtray before coming to a stand. "Well, let's just hope you're right. I don't think a single Arrancar could do much against so many shinigami. If it acts up, I'm sure it'll be taken care of."

"Yeah. . ."

The scarred captain leans back when I get up, but before I can leave he points at the ashtray on the table.

"He was asking about those. The one he stole from you? It got taken away when we captured him. Maybe you should go give him one, Akon. The way he was going on about it, I wouldn't be surprised if he drove himself crazy."

My brows furrow faintly, and something in the other man's tone tells me that his suggestion isn't all that innocent. But he just offers a small, almost secretive smile, before slapping a hand over my shoulder and sliding the shouji open so he can take his leave.


	4. Chapter 4

I make sure that I sit on Hisagi's suggestion for a good two days before giving in. I haven't heard anything new about Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez, but talk of him staying with Third Division has spread throughout Seireitei. I've tried avoiding Kurotsuchi Mayuri (and as casually as possible), because I know he can't be too pleased over this new development. The few times I have seen him around the Research Institute, the looks he's given me were less than comforting. I guess my captain was really banking on them either returning the Arrancar, or killing him. I've known the scientist for a long time, and if I'm loyal to anyone it's to him, but I can't help feeling somewhat relieved.

Not that I'll ever let the older man know that.

After putting my work away, I run a hand over my pocket to make sure my cigarettes are there, and then I leave the laboratory. I rarely venture outside of the Research and Development Institute, let alone the entire Twelfth Division. So this is a new experience for me. It's strange making my way through the other divisions on my way to the Third, and I can tell by the few glances I evoke from others that it's strange for them as well. I ignore their questioning stares, and when I finally arrive at my destination I head straight for Kira Izuru's office.

Standing outside his door, I have to pause for a moment to consider what I'm doing. The Arrancar was brought to the Twelfth Division for scientific research, and I as a scientist, took part in that research. Now the thing is in a different division, and I should get on with my own life, my own work, and my own squad. I really have no business being here, but just as I start turning away Kira's office door slides open. The pale blond stands there in his white haori, regarding me with equally pale eyes. His expression is soft and composed, but there's an underlying solemnness in those furrowed brows.

"Akon, I thought you'd come around. How are you?"

I know Kira Izuru about as well as I know anyone else who isn't a part of the Twelfth. That is to say, I don't know him very well at all. We're both members of the Shinigami Men's Association, and I've noticed that where Hisagi Shuuhei is, Kira Izuru usually is. I don't know if the two of them are "together," or if they're just good friends. And in all honesty, I couldn't care less. Who's fucking who has never been an interest of mine.

"I'm fantastic," I drawl lazily, placing my hands inside my pockets. "How about you? The captain position treating you well?"

The blond offers a small, tired looking smile. "For the most part, but running a whole division without a lieutenant can be exhausting."

I nod slowly, and I know the look on my face is an apathetic one, even if I understand why the blond should be on edge. I can only imagine what it's been like for Kira Izuru these past few months, what with having been betrayed by his own captain, a man of whom he must have trusted and looked up to. And since then he's had to run the entire Third Division on his own, so add that to what I have to assume is an already emotionally strained psyche, and I'm sure you have one stressed shinigami.

No wonder he and Hisagi are always together, I suddenly realize. The two of them have a lot in common.

But, I can't be bothered with Kira Izuru's personal troubles, and his words have my thoughts drifting back to the reason why I'm here. I remember what Hisagi said a couple of days ago, and I find myself wondering if Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez really could become a lieutenant. A week ago I would have considered that an impossible idea, but now my new philosophy is this: stranger things have happened.

"Hey, Hisagi told me that they moved the Arrancar to your division. You're really too soft of a guy, Kira."

Said guy just smirks, the gesture so soft that it's barely there. He slides the shouji closed behind him, then begins walking down the hall. I have no other option than to follow him.

"Are you here to see him? He hasn't done much since arriving. For the most part he stays in his room, but he does like to hassle the other men and women of this division. I've even gotten a few complaints."

"Have you done anything about it?"

Kira shrugs softly and shakes his head, turning down another hallway. "None of it seems that serious. Unless things get physical, or until someone starts to suffer serious mental and emotional trauma, I don't see the use in reprimanding him."

"I didn't know you were so lenient," I comment, dry amusement lacing my words.

The blond chuckles drily, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. "I've met Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez, and he doesn't seem as dangerous as everyone thinks. He isn't any worse than Zaraki-taichou; or the rest of the Eleventh, for that matter."

I smirk sardonically in reply, because the third division captain definitely has a point there. Zaraki Kenpachi has to be one of the most violent, blood-thirsty, battle-loving men in all of Soul Society. If that shinigami can become a captain, then what's the harm in having someone like Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez around?

Making one final turn, I follow as Kira leads me to the end of a long hallway. There are three separate sets of black shoji doors lining the hall, two on the left and one on the right. The pale man comes to a stop in front of the last door on the left, and I glance at him with an arched eyebrow. "This close to your office?"

"So I can keep a close eye on him?" Kira laughs quietly, the sound of it a little strained. "Honestly, I'm not that worried. But you should always take precautions."

A low chuckle escapes me as I nod my agreement. Normally I'd say something back, but now I stay quiet to signal an end to our conversation. The blond seems to catch on quick enough, a weary smile on his face as he mutters a quick goodbye before heading back the way we came. I wait until he's out of sight before pressing just my fingertips to the screen door. Sucking in a quiet breath, I slide the shoji open and step into the room.

It's a sight better than the accommodations he had while staying in our laboratories. Overall the room is pretty small, but the floor is covered with tatami mats instead of cold tile, and the walls are a warm (if a little dull) saffron. Across from the doorway there's a decent sized futon, its black and white sheets in a crumpled heap like they haven't been fixed in days. But that isn't the thing that has a hairless brow creeping its way up my forehead. The blue-haired Arrancar is sitting cross-legged on the futon, his hands making quick work of a pillow as he tears the fabric into strips, feathers falling onto the floor and around his lap.

Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't butcher the thing sooner. In fact I'm a little disappointed that the mattress hasn't already been ripped to shreds, too. This must be the kind of thing he gets up to when he has nothing else to do.

"I didn't hear you knock," the former Espada says, an edge to his tone as he looks up at me beneath furrowed brows. I can't tell if he's amused, pissed off, or just plain indifferent. Either way it doesn't matter, and I just smirk faintly as I slide the door shut and move farther into the room.

"That's because I didn't."

The man snorts loudly and jerks his head to the side. He throws what's left of the pillow across the room, sending a trail of white feathers chasing after it. I look at the mess for a moment before my gaze is drawn back to the Arrancar. The first thing I notice is the new collar around his throat, along with the white yukata he's wearing. He stares at the wall as I look him over, and if I didn't know any better I'd say he's giving me the cold shoulder. I want to laugh at him for that one, but I keep quiet, my hands resting inside my pockets as I slowly make my way around the room.

"You look like you're going to your execution in that outfit," I comment lazily, eyes scanning the floor and walls. "Didn't they give you a uniform?"

"I don't wanna wear that shit."

I chuckle softly, risking a glance over my shoulder. The Arrancar is still seated on his futon, strands of blue hair falling across his eyes. It brings my attention to the strange blue markings that hug his cat-like eyes, and I've noticed them before, but at the time I'd been more interested in other things to pay them any real thought. Now, though, I find myself touching a finger to the spot under one of my own eyes.

"What's up with those?"

Jeagerjaques squints at me, his lip curling into an inaudible growl. He stands up abruptly and stalks towards me, jabbing a finger at his forehead. "What's up with _those?_"

For a few seconds I just stare at him, tilting my head slightly before I realize what he's talking about. "These?" I question, reaching up to rub a finger over one of the horns above my eyebrow. The former Espada nods his head, that characteristic grin making its first appearance since I showed up.

I turn away as the corner of my mouth twists faintly. "I grew into them."

"It makes you different from the rest."

Glancing back at the Arrancar, I watch out of the corner of my eye as his blue gaze runs me over. It looks like he's sizing me up, measuring me, the way a predator measures its prey before the attack. It's a weird feeling because usually I'm the one doing the evaluating, but I can't say that a little part of me doesn't enjoy our roles being reversed. The scientist becoming the specimen, who would've thought it?

"Jeagerjaquez, what did you say to land yourself here?"

"That's none of your business," he drawls, shoving his hands into his pockets. It sounds to me like the Arrancar's being secretive; the very idea of that making my brow cock upwards. He never struck me as the covert type, and what does he have to hide, anyway?

"I guess you really aren't as stupid as you look," I say, with an overly innocuous coolness. "Did talking to the Soutaichou wake you up a little? Make you realize that you had a fighting chance if you appealed to him? I'm impressed, Arrancar. I never thought you'd give in."

Blue eyes widen, and there's a snarl on the other man's lips as he grabs the front of my uniform and shoves me against the nearest wall. He leans in so his face is inches away from mine, and this close it's like I can actually see the fire in his eyes that I'm always talking about "Fuck you, shinigami," he hisses, warm breath ghosting over my features. I hold his angry gaze unflinchingly as he fists the white fabric of my lab coat and jerks me so my head knocks against the wall.

"Why are you here? I thought I'd be rid of you once I got out of that fuckin' hell hole."

I smirk in amusement, because for some reason I've a feeling in my gut that tells me he doesn't really mean that. "You know that cigarette you swiped the other morning? I heard you lost it."

The tone of my voice sounds more mocking than I intended. But I can't help myself, something about this blue-haired Espada brings my sadistic side to life. I know he won't like what I'm implying when I use the word "lost," like he can't hold onto his stolen goods. I won't lie, I'm taking his failure and rubbing it in his face. He couldn't maintain the small victory he had over me, and I want him to realize that. It looks like it worked, judging by the dangerous sound emanating from his throat.

"I didn't lose shit. Those bastards took it after they slapped one of these on me." He tilts his head back and fingers the red collar encircling his throat. I'm drawn to the thickness of his neck; the blue-green veins etched under tanned flesh. "All you shinigami think you're so fuckin' tough, but anyone can be tough when they muzzle the dog so it can't bite back."

I chuckle at the truth in that statement, my lips parting on an indolently "genuine" smile. The look he gives me hints at bemusement, like he wasn't expecting that kind of reaction and doesn't know how to take it. I just keep on smiling and reach into my pocket for my lighter and twenty pack.

"Are you still interested in trying one?"

The Arrancar's gaze darts down immediately, those predatory eyes on the hand holding their prize. He makes a grab for my cigarettes and I stop him with my other hand, firm fingers grasping his wrist. He looks surprised by the strength in my grip, and I arch my brow smugly while smirking. The shinigami of the Twelfth are typically very skilled hand-to-hand combatants, and I'm no different. He answers my silent challenge with a slow, hungry grin.

"You aren't as weak as you look, huh?"

Smirk morphing into something of a satisfied smile, I loosen my grip and pull my hand away. My fingertips graze his skin in the process, sending little jolts of electricity shooting up my arm. My reaction to us touching startles me a little, but I'd rather not think about it. So I just shake my head lightly and walk around him, going over to sit on his messy futon.

"Come here."

The former Espada gives a throaty grunt, inclining his chin arrogantly as he stalks over. The way he gets on the bed is more of a leap, and he lands with his legs crossed, sitting about two feet away from me. His eyes are narrowed to slits as he stares, and I turn my body so I'm facing him. I cross my legs too and set the pack of cigarettes in my lap, effectively smacking his hand when he tries to make another grab for it. He growls between gritted teeth and I chuckle, observing the way his scolded hand curls into a white-knuckled fist.

"You're really impatient, aren't you? Calm down. They aren't going anywhere."

His short blue brows are furrowed over cautious eyes, and his lips are parted softly. I can't read his expression and I'm unsure of what he's thinking, but when his ears flatten against his head the way a cat's would, my lips curl upwards. I hold the lighter up for him to see and push the top open. It's a silver lighter, and I got it from Hisagi when he came back from one of his trips in the Human World. I don't have many things that I'd consider "prized" possessions, but if I had to choose something this lighter would be it.

"Have you ever seen one of these?"

He answers my question with a short head shake.

"It's a lighter. Get it? It lights the cigarette."

Jeagerjaquez responds with a caustic grin, icy eyes looking very unimpressed. I smirk at him and press my thumb to the small wheel, flicking it until a bright flame springs into life. The man's gaze is immediately drawn to the flame, his grin fading so his mouth is slack. For a moment he just stares, watching as the orange spark shimmers, dancing back and forth slowly. When his hand comes up to touch it, I pull the lighter out of reach. He scowls at me angrily.

"I know what it is, I've fuckin' seen fire before."

My hairless brow goes up as I mutter a monotonous "Oh." Honestly, I can't be sure of what the Arrancar does and doesn't know. But I trust him to know what he's doing, and simply watch as he passes his fingers over the flame. He doesn't make any sound as it lightly burns his flesh, blackening his fingertips. After a moment his hand retreats, and he stares at it as he rubs his thumb over four, singed digits.

"It's real."

The tone of his voice suggests that he's a little perturbed by that. I smile softly and shrug my shoulders, before snapping the lighter shut and tossing it to him. "Of course it is. There, have a look for yourself."

He catches the lighter easily and sends me an almost wary glance, before looking down at the object in his hand. He rolls it in his palm slowly, rubbing his thumb over the surface, his gaze lazy. Then his eyes seem to brighten, suddenly more alert, and he holds the lighter up to his face. I watch him curiously as he stares, wondering what's going through his head. It surprises me when his fingers come up to touch the edge of his hollow mask, their movements slow as he traces the bone. I realize that he's looking at his reflection in the lighter; the silver surface is more distorted than a mirror, but obviously good enough. It makes me wonder if Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez has ever seen himself. . .

But the Arrancar seems to realize what he's doing, and he shoots a cold glare in my direction, before throwing the lighter back so it hits me in the chest. "I don't give a shit about that thing. Gimme a fuckin' cigarette, I'm tired of waiting!"

He sounds angry, all of a sudden. There's a sharp edge to his voice, irritation in his gaze, and tension building up in his muscular form. At first I'm a little perplexed, but then I start to think that maybe he's just. . .embarrassed? I would have never thought that the former Sexta Espada was capable of embarrassment. The very idea has a laugh working its way up my throat, but then I realize that it's probably nothing more than his standard anger and annoyance. He's pissed off because I caught him having a private moment with himself. But that's really just the same thing as being embarrassed, right? I decide I won't press it and pull a single cigarette free from its confinements. I'm smirking slightly as I hold it up - my gaze somnolent - but he's snatches it from me before I have a chance to do anything else. He scoots further away from me and brings the stick to his mouth, his tongue peeking out to lick the end.

"It'll feel weird at first," I warn him, my eyes on his blue ones so I don't have to see the red tongue poking between parted lips. I open my lighter once more and reach out to light the cigarette, only to have him snarl at me and rip the thing from my grasp.

"I'm not fuckin' helpless!"

The situation is starting to feel hostile, and though I've had my share of hostile situations concerning Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez, this one seems different. I'm used to the Arrancar's murderous intent, but only when he's enjoying it, not when he's genuinely pissed off. And this time around it feels more like the latter; like he wants to rip my throat out not for the hell of it, but because he's tired of having me around. For the first time since meeting him (and for the first time in my life, really) I'm unsure of what to do. So I just settle for a vacant nod, and shrug my shoulders as I mutter, "I never said you were."

The former Espada just grunts, scowling at me. He flicks his thumb over the lighter to ignite it, then goes cross-eyed staring down his nose at the cigarette. The funny look on his face gets a smirk out of me, but I have to admit it's a little half-hearted. I watch silently as he positions the flame, its heat licking at the paper until it turns a fiery orange.

"When you inhale, make sure you actually inhale," I tell him, glancing up to catch his gaze. Icy blue eyes meet mine, and (for whatever strange reason), I feel a trickle of relief when his brow softens. He doesn't say anything to me, but I know he's listening and waiting for more.

"Some people just hold the smoke in their mouth, but if you don't suck it down there's really no point, and you might as well not smoke at all." I crook my fore and middle fingers together, then reach up to tap my chest. "So you have to inhale, okay? Don't be surprised when it burns."

The Arrancar gives a curt nod, his short brows forming a fierce scowl. At first I think that he's willing me to keel over, and the saying "If looks could kill" comes to mind. . . But something tells me that he's just concentrating, so I relax and watch the way his cheeks hollow when he takes a breath, his chest extending. There's a spark in his eye as he stares at me, like a realization he doesn't like, and his brows knit even tighter together. I can tell that he's trying to hold it in, but then he exhales in a rush, smoke spilling from his lips and out of his nose. He starts coughing the second he exhales, the sound raspy and rough. I notice that his eyes are a little watery, making them look even more blue than they already are.

Smirking shrewdly, I wait for his coughing fit to subside. Clouds of gray float between us and my eyes hood, the smell of smoke teasing my nostrils. I can't help but inhale, suddenly hungry for a cigarette of my own.

"That's fuckin' shit," the other man wheezes, tossing away the offending object so it lands among the feathers on the floor. I chuckle insipidly and stand up, walking over to crush the cigarette under my foot. In the process I smear ash into the tatami mat, but I doubt that Jeagerjaquez will care.

"Don't do that, you could start a fire. When you're done with a cigarette you always put it out. You don't just throw it away while it's still lit."

"That was fucking shit," the Arrancar repeats, slower this time, his tone a little raw. Looking back at him I note the faint redness of his eyes; the way his hair is falling in his face, and the heavier rise and fall of his chest.

"You didn't give yourself time to get used to it," I tell him, walking back so I'm standing in front of the futon. I bend down to reclaim my lighter, before picking up the pack of cigarettes. "That happens to everyone the first time. It's a foreign substance, something your body doesn't recognize, so of course it reacts violently. But once you get used to it it's not so bad. You'll probably even like it."

Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez looks up at me with narrowed eyes, clearly skeptical. I know he wants to tell me that I'm full of shit, but he doesn't say anything at all - which is more than a little unexpected. I pull three cigarettes from my pack then toss them on the rumpled sheets.

"There, just in case you want to give it another try."

"What about the lighter?" he mumbles, eyeing the pocket where said lighter is resting. He reaches for it but I walk away, heading for the shouji.

"That's mine. Get your own."

"Fuckin' bastard."

I chuckle as I slide the door open and step out into the hall. My mouth is open to say something else as I turn around, but I stop when I see that the former Espada is standing directly behind me. I didn't even hear him move, let alone feel his presence shift. I close my mouth and just stare at him, my gaze expectant as I arch an eyebrow. He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head so he's looking down at me, that cocky grin of his springing to life.

"Never told me your name," he mutters simply.

I feel a smug smirk of my own creeping into view. "Akon."

"Just Akon?"

"Yeah."

The Arrancar actually laughs, the sound a loud, harsh bark. I'm pretty sure that most people would be startled by such a deafening noise, but I just quirk the corner of my mouth humorously and stare at his teeth. He lifts a hand and jabs a thumb against his chest. "Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez. Don't you forget it, shinigami."

He must know that I'm already aware of that; I've called him Jeagerjaquez more than once. But I'm guessing that this is our formal meet-and-greet.

"Only if you show the same courtesy."

"Che, I've already forgotten."

His answer gets a chuckle out of me, and I shake my head as I turn away so he can't see my smirk grow. When I wave goodbye over my shoulder it's dismissive, but I can feel the grin on his face, and his eyes on my back as I walk away.


	5. Chapter 5

Of all the bullshit I've had to deal with since being in Soul Society, this has to be the worst. Watching some skinny, sick looking shinigami scribble at a desk is like watching paint dry. I got tired of sitting in that tiny ass room, so I came out here looking for something to do. How I ended up in this guy's office I don't really know, and if I remember right his name is Kira Izuru. But I couldn't care less what his name is, because there's only one name I need to know.

If it wasn't for that orange-haired dipshit, I'd still be in that little glass room instead of watching a shinigami fill out paperwork. There's only one person that can kill Kurosaki Ichigo, and that's me. His life is mine, and I can't take it if I'm dead on some freak's lab table. It burns my ass giving into these shinigami, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I figure the pay off in the end will be worth it. I'd rather play along for a little while, than lose out on pummeling Kurosaki. I want that shinigami's heart in my hand and his bloodied corpse in a broken heap at my feet. He'll be nothing but a smear on the pavement when I'm through with him. Yeah. . .just thinking about it puts a grin on my face, my fingers twitching in anticipation.

You'd think that being "free" would reassure me; make me feel a little better about my current situation. But it _doesn't_. in all actuality, it makes me feel even worse. I'm going out of my fucking mind right now. All my life I've had something to do, but here there ain't shit to occupy my time. They won't let me fight anyone, won't even take this damned thing off my neck so I can flex my reiatsu. I'm cooped up in that little room and no matter how they dress it up, it's still a prison. I'm a prisoner here and I fucking hate it.

When I was just a hollow I was always busy: eating Gillians so I'd become an Adjucha, then eating Adjuchas so I could be a Vasto Lordes. Then I turned into an Arrancar and not soon after I met Kurosaki. He was the one thing that kept me going; the one thing that gave me something to look forward to. Every time I went to the Human World I'd go looking for him, and when I was stuck in Hueco Mundo I had him to think about. Killing the orange-haired shinigami was always on my mind and it was always within reach. But now I'm stuck in this fucking hellhole, and that one murderous goal of mine feels like it's getting farther and father away. It's making me restless, and if I'm not careful I'm gonna lose it.

In fact, I'm getting so impatient at this point that I actually miss being experimented on. There was no way in hell I liked being caged like an animal, getting harassed with needles and scalpels, but it distracted me. The pain kept me busy and it reminded me of how life used to be in Hueco Mundo - of what it was like to fight someone. It triggered that all-too-familiar blood-lust, because every time that yellow-toothed shinigami showed up, I'd imagine ripping him to shreds. Those daydreams kept me content, for the most part. Call me a sick fucker but that's the kinda thing I get off on. That's the kind of thing that keeps me goin'. I need a violent stimuli, okay? Don't judge me until you've tried it for yourself. You'd be surprised at how damn good it feels shoving your fist through someone else's chest.

Sometimes I think that maybe, just maybe, if there was another Arrancar here in Soul Society, I wouldn't be so pissed off. It'd be a twisted kind of comfort, knowing that I wasn't the only one being held back from my power. It'd be nice if there was someone else that couldn't indulge in the much needed killing spree. But, as far as I know, the other Espada were killed in the war. Looks like I'm the only one left, and consequently I'm the only one suffering. That adds to my fury, makes me even more agitated and on edge than I already am. I hate that those other fuckers got off so easy.

Pacing behind the blond shinigami, I scowl at his bowed head and contemplate killing him. Normally I'd put a hole in his chest with one of my ceros, but seeing as they put the kibosh on my powers, I have to get more creative. I could always break that frail little neck. . .snapping bone is a good sound, not as satisfying as the feel of warm blood on my skin, but sometimes you gotta compromise. After I kill him there's no doubt the other shinigami will come running, and that could be fun. I haven't seen excitement in days, so an army of zanpakutou is welcome. They'd have the upper hand, of course, and usually I'm not the type to fight when the terms ain't equal, but there comes a point in life when you get desperate.

"Is there a problem, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez?"

His quiet words jolt me, disrupting my lethal thoughts. I blink them away and glance down, my gaze meeting that of the other man's. My brows furrow and I narrow my eyes to slits. "Yeah, there's a problem. I'm fuckin' bored."

The blond gives a little sigh, dipping his pen into the ink before he goes back to writing. "I gave you something to do earlier, but you refused."

I snort loudly and point towards the desk at the other side of the room. "If you're talking about all those papers over there, like hell I'd actually do that."

"It was only a suggestion. You don't have to if you don't want to, but it would keep you busy. If you're going to choose boredom over work, then you shouldn't complain about it later on."

"I'd be just as bored filling out paperwork as I am right now!" I counter, voice raising an octave. I move around the desk so I'm standing in front of it, then put my fists on the hard surface and lean down, a low growl working its way up my throat. "Take this fucking thing off my neck and let me fight someone."

The frail looking shinigami cocks an eyebrow, then slowly pushes his ink aside. It looks like he wants to keep it out of my reach, as if I'd knock it over. That brings a smirk to my face and I'm half tempted to do just that, but I decide not to when he exhales and sits back in his chair.

"Removing the reiatsu limiter isn't in my hands, necessarily. But I've a feeling you won't have to wait much longer." The blond stares up at me, a weird look in his eyes that I can't quite read. He gathers his papers between slim hands and taps them a few times, before setting the stack in a box at the corner of his desk. When he starts to get up I lean back slowly, rolling my shoulders and inclining my chin. I wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't, just starts removing his white haori. When it's off completely he folds it and sets it on top of his desk, then grabs hold of the fabric above his obi, pulling it from his hakama. My eyes are widening before a I know it and my upper lip curls.

"The fuck are you doing?"

The smaller man smiles softly as he tugs the top of his uniform free. It hangs down by his thighs, leaving his torso bare and exposed. "I'm getting ready for a meeting with the Shinigami Men's Association."

"Huh?" I grunt roughly, my squint suspicious.

"The Shinigami Men's Association," he repeats. Now he's pulling his arms out of the sleeves of his uniform, leaving it to rest limply on his shoulders. "You can come with me, if you'd like. It'd be better than going back to your room."

My gaze follows him as he heads for the shoji door and slides it open. I shove my hands into my pockets and follow him slowly, feeling a little reluctant. "It has to be stupid, if that outfit is anythin' ta go by."

"I wouldn't worry about anyone's appearance if I were you, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," the blond chuckles, glancing at my clothes pointedly. Earlier, I'd finally gotten sick of wearing that white yukata, mainly 'cause it had no pockets for me to rest my hands in. So I decided I'd suck it up and wear what they gave me. The black hakama was decent enough - not much different from the white one I used to wear - but the top part was too long. So I ripped off the bottom, cutting its length down to half, like the white jacket of my old uniform. I've seen the way these shinigami tuck their robes into their hakama, and that's just plain fucking stupid. I don't want all that extra material getting in my way, bunching up around my hips and thighs, twisting and pulling every time I move. It's a damn distraction, if you ask me. And when I get down to business and I'm ready to beat someone brainless, I don't need any distractions. Not to mention that if I wore it the way shinigami did, no one would see my hollow hole or Sexta tattoo.

"Che, you oughtta appreciate the view," I tell the smaller man, with a crooked, smug grin. He smiles at me softly, but keeps quiet as we walk down a busy hallway, ignoring the nosey stares of other shinigami.

* * *

At first, I think that standing outside a door labeled "Men's Bathroom" is some kind of joke. Or I think that skinny Kira Izuru just has to use the john. But then he pushes the door open and I see five men standing between a row of stalls and urinals, all of them shouting at each other and dressed the same way that Kira is. I cock an eyebrow immediately and make a weird sound deep in my throat.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me? You have your 'meetings' in the damn bathroom?" I grunt, my tone a little incredulous. The blond beside me utters a quiet laugh that sounds darkly amused.

"We used to have our own room, but the Women's Association wanted it for storage. . .and no one else would let us borrow their assembly halls."

I throw my head back as I bark an incredulous laugh. "Fucking pathetic! You sure that _this _isn't the Women's Association? It might as well be, you bunch'a pussies."

There's plenty more insults where that came from. I could go on all day, really. But when I catch a whiff of something eerily familiar. . . Nostrils flaring, I whip my head around to follow that smell. And there he is, heading straight for us, with that jet-black hair and those tiny little horns. There's a cigarette in his mouth, the stink of smoke assaulting my nose. Fuck, it's like the guy can't live without sucking on one of those nasty sticks. . . To my surprise his uniform is open, hanging off his shoulders like Kira and the others. His skin is pale and his torso is more muscular than I would have thought, something that surprises me even more.

"Kira," he mumbles, nodding his head faintly. When his gaze drifts back to me I notice a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Arrancar."

His voice is rougher than I remember it being, but then again I never really paid attention to the way he sounded. I have to wonder why I'm noticing now, of all times. Could it have something to do with all that naked flesh just begging to be bloodied and bruised? Tch, yeah fuckin' right. I tilt my head back with all the arrogance I can muster and stare down at him coldly.

"What the hell are you doin' here?" I demand, eyes narrowed. My upper lip curls like the burning paper of his cigarette as I stare at its glowing tip.

"I could ask you the same thing," he answers lazily, looking past me and to Kira Izuru, like he's waiting for some kind of explanation. The blond steps up beside me, that angular bang blocking his face from my view.

"He kept complaining so I thought I'd bring him along."

"It's like a kid, right?" Akon comments, his chuckle derisive. "Always bitching and moaning. I thought I had a hard time dealing with it in my division, but at least then we had it locked up."

I don't know what comes over me, but suddenly I'm seeing red. Something inside me snaps and I have Akon up against the wall, my hand clenched in a fist as I reach my arm back. I've always had a short fuse, and these two fuckers talking about me like I ain't even there gets right under my skin. Not to mention that he called me a fucking _it_ like I'm not on their level; like I'm somehow _beneath _them. Oh man, fuck with the bull and you get the horns. I'm gonna teach these sorry bastards a lesson, because _no one_looks down on me.

A manic grin plastered to my face, I stare at the dark-haired shinigami from beneath furrowed brows. I oughtta tell him that this is his lucky day. I'm about to slug him in the face so damn hard that I'll be wearin' his head like a fuckin' sleeve. My chest is heaving and I know how crazed I must look, but I can't help it. There's a prickling all over my skin and I want his blood so bad that I can fucking _taste _it. It smells strong and enticing and oh, so damn good. . . I'm starting to feel heady with eagerness, and the way he looks at me doesn't help any. His hairless brows are furrowed, pale lips open on a soft part, the cigarette knocked from his mouth. There's something flashing in his eyes that I can't put my finger on, but it looks like he's. . ._challenging _me. No, he's _begging _me. He fuckin' _wants _me to hit him. The sick little bastard. . . For the first time in my life, I actually hesitate. As much as I've been aching for this - _dying _for it - I just can't give him the satisfaction. . .

Or can I? Why the hell should I care, this is all about _me_. I don't give two fucks about his satisfaction, because right now sating this hunger is more important. I'm itching so bad that if I don't scratch it, I'll go even crazier than I already am. I can't let this opportunity pass me by. One word resounds in my head, making me growl low in my throat.

_Kill kill kill_.

But just when I'm about to do it - slam my knuckles into his mother fucking jaw - there's a hand on my forearm and something sharp against my throat. The grip is like iron and I can't break free no matter how hard I struggle. I snarl in frustration and push back, knocking into something hard and solid behind me. I twist my arm and the hand finally lets go, then I shove the zanpakutou away from my throat. My chest is heaving violently as I spin around and bare my teeth, practically hissing at the shinigami behind me. It was Kira Izuru's hand that interrupted, but now he's just standing there, the look on his face calm and a little grave. The man beside him has a sixty-nine tattooed on his left cheek, his slanted eyes stern as he stares at me. I recognize him instantly - he's one of the two shinigami that caught me when I broke out. Him being here makes my blood surge and I feel even hungrier than I did before. I grin so wide that my mask splits in two, and I crack my knuckles as I stalk towards him.

"That's more like it, shinigami! Show me what you got!" I shout, barking a laugh.

Kira Izuru steps between us, and normally I'd be pissed at him for getting in my way, but right now I'm too riled up to care. His hand curls around the hilt of his zanpakutou and he takes on a fighter's stance, brows furrowed as he says, "Grimmjow, you will regret this."

"HA! Are you fuckin' kidding me?! This is what I've been waiting for!"

The shock of being on my knees a second later is like being sucker-punched in the gut. My body is so rigid that I feel like my spine's gonna break in half, and I make a strangled sound between gritted teeth. It feels like every muscle inside me has seized, and when I try to move painful shocks of electricity shoot through me. I gasp and pant against the strain, until finally I'm howling, the sound piercing even to my own ears. When I'm not being jolted by stabbing currents of agony, I feel like there's something heavy trying to smother me; trying to force me to the floor. My eyes flutter a little, exhaustion steadily creeping in with the effort of staying upright.

"Kurotsuchi-taichou told me earlier that there were some adjustments made. . .to the collar, that is."

At the sound of _that _voice I turn my head, ignoring the pain that comes with it. Akon is standing by Kira Izuru, now. My vision is a little blurry, but I'm able to make out the soft frown on his face, and the way his eyes are downcast. He's looking at something round in his palm - like a small half circle - and he hands it to the blond shinigami. Kira looks a little stupefied, but he takes the object and stares at it for a moment before pressing his thumb to the flat surface. The pain and heaviness fades away instantly, and I sag forward while gasping for air. It takes me a moment to catch my breath, and by then the other four shinigami I saw in the bathroom have joined the three clustered around me. Now there are seven sets of eyes staring at my crouched body. Their expressions vary but right now I couldn't give a fuck. I snarl at all of them and start to push myself to a stand, trying my hardest not to stumble. When I'm finally on my feet I roll my shoulders, then bite back a wince at the sharp ache in those muscles. I straighten to my full height and look at the shinigami boldly, the fury in my eyes cloaked by a silent "Come on, I fucking dare you."

"_I'll kill all of you,_" I growl, my tone dangerously low; so low that it's barely audible. I run my gaze over them, and I can't help it when my eyes are drawn to the horned shinigami. My teeth grind together and my fingers flex in and out of a fist. It's taking all my willpower not to walk over there and tell him to go fuck himself before I snap his neck. With a loud, hiss-like snarl, I spin around and stalk away. Behind me I hear a sword about to be drawn, and then Kira Izuru's calm voice.

"Let him go."

* * *

I get about as far away as I can, stealthy as a cat roaming deserted alleyways. I avoid the other shinigami lurking between each division like the fucking plague, and for obvious reasons. After about half an hour I find this old, abandoned building, up on a hill with rubble scattered around it. I sit down on the wooden steps of the porch and spread my legs wide, arms resting on my knees as I glare at the ground.

I've been pissed off ever since I got taken out of Hueco Mundo. Hell, I've been pissed off for as long as I can remember, but this time it's reached an entirely new level. I'm so fuckin' _sick _of being pushed around by these damned shinigami. Before all this it was mainly Kurosaki I was interested in, but now I'd like to kill every single one of 'em. Cero their heads right off their shoulders; rip their innards out and strangle them with their own intestines.

Why am I so angry? Two reasons. First of all, those shithead shinigami talking about me like I wasn't even there, and then calling me an it. I don't know who the hell that horned freak thinks he is, but one of these days it's gonna be me that gets the last laugh. No one looks down on me and gets away with it. I plan on making him pay. Hell, I'm gonna make all of 'em pay.

Secondly, my fight got interrupted. _Twice_. It seems like my whole fucking life, people have been getting in my way. First Tousen, then Ulquiorra, and now these Soul Society pricks. I'm telling you, if one more person ruins my fun I'm gonna go apeshit. There's gonna be a lot of people getting beat to death with their own limbs. I never get in their way, they shouldn't get in mine. Have some goddamn consideration, for fuck's sake. What kind of selfish asshole interferes with another person's fight? Assholes in black robes, that's who. Ulquiorra was an Arrancar, but he might as well have been a shinigami with that kiss-ass attitude of his.

As I sit here brooding, trying to burn a hole in the ground with my scowl, I get this gnawing in my gut. It's like it's trying to tell me that I'm furious for more than I'm letting on. But I refuse to listen to it, let alone accept it. So fucking what if the person that did that to me was Akon. He's just another shit-faced, limp-dick shinigami. I never expected anything better outta him. What does piss me off, though, is the fact that he ever started bothering me to begin with. Why the hell did he come to my fucking room, show me how to fucking smoke, fucking talk to me, if he was gonna pull a stunt like that? I feel bile in the back of my throat when I realize that this is the sting of betrayal. But you can't feel betrayed if you don't put your trust in someone, and like I ever put any kind of trust in that stupid fuck.

Growling, I stand up abruptly and tear off the top of my uniform. I rip it in two before tossing it away, then turn and slam my fist into one of the wooden pillars connecting the roof to the porch. I keep on punching, the sound of wood splintering loud in my ears, the feel of blood running down my fingers warm on my skin. I don't stop until I'm hitting air, having successfully severed the wooden column in two. I stare at it between furrowed brows, and bring my hand to my mouth so I can lick the blood from my knuckles. My chest is heaving from the exertion and it makes me feel good. My skin is damp with sweat and that makes me feel good, too. Now if only it was a shinigami's blood on my knuckles instead of my own, everything would be perfect.

And it's at that precise moment that I sense something behind me, making me jerk around. I was expecting him to be a coward and approach me slowly, but instead he flash-steps so he's right in front of me. There can't be more than two feet between us, and him being so close pulls a roar from my throat. I lash out immediately, my left fist swinging forward to catch him in the jaw. He blocks me easily and there's a small frown on his face.

"Wait, Gri-"

He doesn't get to finish when my other hand catches him square in the face. The sound of his flesh connecting with my fist is like music to my ears, and the way he looks when he staggers back is even better. All of it makes me want to hurt him even more, and my hands shape into claws as I advance. I'm ready to break every bone in his body, but he shunpos out of reach, reappearing under the porch. There's a good twenty feet between us, now, and I stare at him as he looks at me with lazy eyes, his hand coming up to wipe under his nose. He smears blood over his cheek, and the color is bright against his skin. It gives me a sense of satisfaction.

"You're angry," he says, his voice low and matter-of-fact.

"No shit," I bark back. The top of his uniform is still open from earlier, but now he has his arms through the sleeves. All that naked, scar-less skin makes me want to rip him open and snap his ribs with my bare hands before clawing out his heart.

"What did you expect me to do? I couldn't let you fight them."

"It was none of your fuckin' business! Stay out of my way, or next time I'll paint this whole damn city with your insides!"

"Next time it'll be _your _insides, Grimmjow," Akon replies, his tone colder than before. He furrows his brows at me and takes a few steps closer. "I guess I spoke too soon when I said you weren't as stupid as you look. Do you know what would happen if you attacked two captains? They'd kill you. Either they'd kill you on the spot, or you'd be taken into custody and executed later on. You're on a short enough leash as it is. Don't be reckless on top of it."

A deep rumble resounds in my chest, turning itself into a snarl as it works its way up my throat. I stalk over to the other man and glare down at him, my jaw clenching. "I'd rather be dead than live my life on any fuckin' leash, no matter how short or long it is! I had to put up with Aizen's shit for too long; I'm not gonna let anyone else control me! I don't bow down to anyone!"

The horned shinigami just frowns at me dryly, his hairless brow smoothing out. Blood is still seeping from his nose, and it stains his upper lip a darker red than it really is. "You want to get that off, don't you?" he asks me, pointing at the collar around my throat. My brow twitches a little and I narrow my eyes as I continue to stare at him.

"You want to get that off and find that Kurosaki kid? Well, you can't do either of those when you're dead."

Hissing softly, I fight the urge to turn away and storm off. "Why the fuck would you care, huh? Just go back to that hellhole you call home and tinker with some other hopeless fuck you found in Hueco Mundo. I never asked for your damned opinion, and you lurking around me is starting to piss me off!"

Akon's mouth twitches a little, like it wants to frown even more but he won't let it. He tilts his head away and sighs softly, before moving to stand by the pillar opposite the one I destroyed. "I don't care," he mumbles. I can see the side of his face and the way his eyes droop, his gaze on something far away as he reaches into his pocket. "I just thought I'd. . .remind you."

I watch him silently as he brings a cigarette to his mouth. He's holding the lighter from the other day, and he cups his hand over the cigarette as he lights it. When it's lit he closes his eyes, pinching the white stick between his fingers as he inhales deeply. I watch his cheeks hollow and imagine the smoke diving down his throat and swirling inside his chest. Then he's exhaling loudly so there's a plume of smoke floating in front of his face.

Grimacing, I mumble to myself under my breath, then sit down on the top step. I scratch a finger over my jaw, then cross my arms over my bare chest. I stare straight ahead and try to ignore the other man's presence, but something I can't ignore is what he said. I want to deny any point he had, but it's damn hard. That puts a scowl on my face, which only deepens when I feel something fall into my lap. I give a little twitch and glance down, at something small, blue, and rectangular. I grunt loudly and pick the object up so I can see it better.

"The fuck is this?"

"It's a lighter."

Akon sounds closer than he did before, so I glance in his direction. He's standing about a foot away on my right side, and slightly behind me. He looks me in the face but it's only for a second. Then his gaze darts back to the lighter, and he shrugs his shoulders like he can't be bothered. "I had it lying around. I figured you should have one so you could smoke the cigarettes I gave you."

For some reason that has a frown tugging at my lips. I turn my head away so I can't see the other man, and steal one more glance at the lighter before tossing it aside.

"I don't want it. You're stupid to smoke that shit."

He really is stupid to smoke that shit. I thought it'd be something that tasted good, or at least something that felt good. Why else would he have one between his lips nearly every time I saw him? To say it was like running head-first into a brick wall when I finally tried it would be an understatement. It had to be one of the worst things that's ever been in my mouth, and it felt even worse when it got inside of me. I don't have any interest in that sorta thing. At first I was curious because I'd never seen smoke coming outta someone's nose and mouth. It was like he swallowed a ball of fire and it was burning up inside of him. It sure as hell felt that way when I was puffing on one of those things. Burned my throat like a bitch, and then I got this weird feeling deep in my gut, like hot coals were sitting in there. Remembering it makes the hair on my arms stand on end, my skin getting all itchy. Yeah, like hell I'd ever try that again.

"I told you that you'd probably like it once you got used to it. But that's fine. It's your decision."

I can't see Akon, but I've a feeling that right about now he's shrugging his shoulders like he always does. I feel his footsteps and hear the swish of his uniform as he walks past me, and the tone of his voice sounded weirdly calm when he spoke. I realize in that moment that he reminds me of someone I used to know: Ulquiorra Schiffer. They both have that same stoic, calm-enough-to-drive-you-crazy attitude. Not to mention their curiosity. Ulquiorra would never admit it, but he was so damn curious about that stupid bitch that it made me sick. Always asking her questions; always wanting to figure out what made her different from us. And here this guy is, some kind of _scientist _studying things. Studying _me_. I've never had anyone study me before, and I don't like it. It's just another way that he looks down on me. He called me a fucking _it,_ like I'm just some _thing _to him; some_ lab rat_. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that dealing with him is like dealing with Ulquiorra. Which is no good, because that dipshit pissed me off more than anyone else.

As I contemplate all of this, the horned shinigami walks farther away, then stops when there's about ten feet between us. My eyes are on him and he takes one final drag, before dropping the cigarette on the ground and crushing it under his foot. There's smoke all around his face when he exhales, and he turns his head just a little, so the only thing I see is one eye and half of his mouth. It's expressionless _now,_but I remember that I've seen it smirk. Which is the one gesture that sets him apart from guys like Ulquiorra. I don't think I ever saw the other Arrancar smile. It was either a look of complete indifference, or a small frown. He might as well have been a statue for all it mattered. Maybe that's why he was so interested in that woman. She had something he didn't. . .

And maybe that's why I've put up with Akon for as long as I have, I suddenly realize. He reminds me of the green-eyed Espada, but at the same time he's capable of things that Ulquiorra never was. The small, sardonic grins, and the way his eyebrows go up when he's taken off guard. And there's also that weird, sarcastic sense of humor, something else that the Cuatro Espada never had. . .

It's thinking about that stuff that gets me scowling a little, because right now the look on Akon's face is a ghost of Ulquiorra's. It's irritatingly _impassive,_ and I find myself wishing that he wore one of his condescending smirks instead. I even miss his wry remarks- wait, what? I didn't just think that I _missed _something. I never _miss _anything, unless it's a good beat down. And I especially don't miss anything from this annoying fucker who stabbed me in the back.

"My apologies for getting in your way, Jaegerjaquez. It won't happen again."

His bone-dry voice jars me from my thoughts, making my brows knot that much tighter. I look up at the other man but he's already gone, giving me zero time to react. I stare at the empty space where he was for a long moment, then grunt loudly and shake my head. Damn right it wouldn't happen again. I'd say he's finally caught the hint. It fucking took him long enough, the stupid prick. I was sick of him being around, stinking of smoke. I was sick of his stupid smirks and smartass comments.

So why is there a frown on my face and a sinking feeling in my gut? Glaring defiantly, I jerk my head away and look off to the side. When I see the blue lighter laying rejected in the grass, my frown deepens.


	6. Chapter 6

The lab is quiet, as always. I'm alone as I measure strange-colored liquids inside test tubes. I have a bright light shining on the table, but the rest of the room is dimly lit. There aren't any windows nearby, and I've been in here for so long that it's starting to mess with my perception of time. It's something I've gotten used to, though. Over the past hundred years I've had my fair share of all-nighters, and there were times that I spent entire weeks in these laboratories, without any fresh air or sunlight. Other people would go crazy with cabin fever, but I'm a scientist and this is home.

Deep down, though, I realize that there's more to me working for hours on end. It isn't because I'm cozy here, it's because I need a distraction. I'd say that it's been four days since the last time I spoke to Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. I was serious when I told him that I'd stay out of his way. It took me a few visits, but I finally came to the conclusion that I only aggravate the situation. I'm the thing that triggers his violent behavior. If I'm honest with myself, I'd admit that it's driving me a little crazy. I don't understand why he acts so angry around me, but relatively calm around other shinigami like Kira Izuru. The urge to figure him out is gnawing away at me, like an experiment I can't complete. But no matter how badly I want to, I can't indulge my curiosity. Not only would it jeopardize me, but it'd jeopardize the former Espada. If he keeps lashing out whenever I'm around - to the point that he ends up attacking others - it could be his funeral.

And speaking of funerals, I should start planning my own. The blue-haired Arrancar is going to be the death of me, I know it. He's awakened things in me that I never knew existed. I've experienced the kind of "compassion" and consideration that a scientist (like myself) should never experience. I'm the researcher, and he's the specimen. I shouldn't care what happens to him. I shouldn't care if he suffers, or if he dies. So, why do I? Why can't I make that distinction between me and him as black and white as it used to be? Why are things blurring at the edges and becoming gray? This sort of thing has never happened to me, in all my hundred years. These are foreign thoughts, and foreign feelings, and I'm not sure what to make of them let alone how to handle them.

I want to regain control of my life. I want to go back to how things used to be. Having nothing but my research kept things simplistic and predictable. I was never caught off guard; my emotions were never a whirlwind like they are now. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez didn't exist, and my life was uncomplicated. I was a man whose interests didn't go beyond that of the things he studied, alone in the dark corners of some laboratory.

Sighing softly, I reach up to rub my fingers over aching eyes. Even when I try to keep myself sidetracked, I can't manage it. My thoughts always wander back to the former Espada and my current predicament. Maybe it's time to stop fighting it. What's the use, it's only making things worse. Putting so much effort into something without any results is exhausting me. I think of what I just said, about wanting my old life back, and I have to ask myself if that's true. Do I really want that? There was no substance there, nothing that was real and alive. Two weeks ago I'd bite my own tongue, but now I consider that statement a simple truth. It's funny how one person can change your entire outlook on life.

Poker-faced, I reach into my pocket for a cigarette. I've gotten myself worked up, and I could use a little nicotine to relax me. I lean back in my chair and hold my silver lighter up, using its flame to light the end of my cigarette. The paper turns an angry orange, then settles to a singed black. I pinch the white cylinder between my fore and middle finger before taking a long, deep drag. My eyes fall almost completely shut, and I tip my head back so I'm staring at the ceiling. After a moment I blow smoke into the air, watching as the cloud of gray floats upwards, blending with the shadows until it disappears from view.

Ah, that's better. I can feel my tense muscles unraveling already. There's nothing like satisfying that ever present craving. I take another draw of my cigarette, and make sure my workspace is clean before standing up. I've decided that I could use a real smoke break. I don't spend a lot of time outside, but then again there's a lot of things I've been doing that I never used to. A clean atmosphere should do me some good, and help me to clear my head.

The sun is there to welcome me when I get outside, and its brightness has me squinting. I tilt my head down to shade my eyes until they adjust to the new lighting. The air around me is warm, and fragrant; different from the stagnant smells of the laboratory. I breathe it in experimentally, tucking my hands inside the pockets of my lab coat. There are other shinigami roaming the streets, their voices a loud collective of sound. All in all it's a very new experience for me; a lot louder and busier than what I'm used to. Normally I'd be unimpressed, but right now I'm reasonably intrigued.

Reasonably.

I feel a little out of my element, so I tilt my head back and close my eyes to the glare of the sun. Its rays are hot against my face, and I still have my cigarette nestled between my lips as I suck on it. I'm walking along blindly when suddenly, out of nowhere, I collide with something of startling solidity. My eyes fly open at the unexpected impact, and the force of it is enough to knock me sideways, my back hitting the wall of a nearby building.

"Watch where you're fucking going, you stupid shit."

My eyes widen at the sound of that rough, husky voice. I look at its owner and my gaze locks with a pair of cold blue irises. The Sexta Espada stalks past me, his brows forming a deep scowl. The look in his eye is hungry as he stares at me, and he spits at my feet before dragging his tongue over his teeth. My brain is still trying to process what just happened, and because of that I feel rooted to the spot. I can't think of how to react so I just stare at Jaegerjaquez numbly. He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then squares his shoulders and stalks away. My eyes are glued to his retreating back and other shinigami stare as he saunters past them, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Akon?"

I twitch in surprise, startled by the use of my name. I don't know when he showed up, but suddenly the ninth division captain is standing right beside me. His thin brows are scrunched together in a soft frown, and his eyes are questioning as he stares at me.

"Where did you come from?" I ask him, my tone flat despite my rattled nerves.

Hisagi points to his left, at another street that branches from the one we're on. "I was walking by, and I saw the Arrancar bump into you."

Straightening up slowly, I run my hands over my lab coat to brush it off. Thankfully the nonchalance I normally possessed was making a swift return. "Really? I thought I bumped into him." I mutter, my hairless brow arched faintly.

"Well, from what I saw, your eyes were closed and his weren't."

_Excuse me?_ is what I think in response to that. _Jaegerjaquez _was the one who did the bumping? And intentionally, if Hisagi's words are anything to go by. From the very beginning I've had a hard time working the Arrancar out. Just when I think I'm getting somewhere, he does something to throw me off. I can only assume that he ran into me on purpose to get my attention, but why? I was certain that he hated me (what with all the threats against my life), or had at least grown tired of me being in his general vicinity.

So why did he do something to make me notice him?

"Isn't it strange to see a former Espada walking around freely? In Soul Society, of all places."

Judging by the tone of Hisagi's voice, I'd say he's slightly mystified. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, studying his skeptical expression, before I shrug my shoulders lazily. "I think we surpassed strange a long time ago, Hisagi. Is he still wearing the reiatsu limiter?"

"Yeah," the other man answers, nodding his head. He looks in the direction that Jaegerjaquez went (far out of sight, now), before his gaze drifts back to me. "But they take it off to test his fighting abilities, and when they want him to do kidou exercises."

My brow shoots up, surprise evident on my face. "Kidou exercises and fighting? Are they trying to train him?"

Hisagi nods again and rubs at the nape of his neck. He starts walking, leaving me no choice but to follow him. "You knew that's where all this was heading, Akon. If they didn't train him what use would he be? It wouldn't make sense to keep him alive without a purpose."

Frowning softly, I stare at the cobblestones at our feet. The scarred captain is right; I did know. I'm not sure why I asked him that question, because the answer was obvious. I guess a small part of me is irked, for whatever reason. The Gotei 13 really plans on using Jaegerjaquez in any way they can, don't they?

And why is that such a bitter thought in my mind?

"But seems to like it. The fighting, I mean. As for kidou, he has about as much talent for it as Abarai."

The other man ends his sentence on a reluctant laugh, shaking his head. I remain unmoved, still bothered by all the testing the former Espada is going through. I have no doubts that Hisagi is telling the truth, and I'm sure Jaegerjaquez is basking in the opportunity to fight. But how will he feel when he realizes that he's being shaped into some kind of tool? He went through it before with Aizen, and I don't think he'd be interested in a repeat.

"That isn't surprising," I mumble after a moment, slowing to a standstill. "I don't think he has the attention span for something like Demon Arts. I should head back to the Twelfth, though. I have some work I need to finish before the day's over."

"Oh, yeah, of course. One more thing before you go. Don't let the Arrancar get to you."

Staring at the tattooed shinigami, my brow gives a little twitch. "What makes you think that I'm letting him get to me?"

"You should've seen the look on your face when he bumped into you." Hisagi pauses then, staring back at me for a long moment before the corner of his mouth twitches faintly. "And I thought you preferred the pronoun it?"

I know my face goes blank, and so does my mind, disabling any response I may have. From the first moment I meant the former Espada, I called him an "it." Back then he was only a thing to be studied - an object - and I didn't identify him as male or female. Then as I got to know the Arrancar better, "it" slowly became a he. Still, I had decided that I'd keep him genderless when I talked about him in public. I didn't want anyone catching on, because my viewpoint changing might look a little suspicious. All of that effort for nothing, because now I've just blown it in front of Hisagi Shuuhei.

But I guess it could be worse; I could have blown it in front of Kurotsuchi-taichou. I'm grateful that it was Hisagi who heard me slip, because of all the people I know, he's the only one I'd consider a genuine "friend." I know that I can trust the tattooed captain to keep my little "secret" safe.

"Well it definitely doesn't look like a she, does it?" I ask him point-blank. The other man chuckles, reaching out to smack my arm.

"Whatever you say, Akon."

With a knowing smile and a squeeze of my bicep, Hisagi Shuuhei walks away. I watch him leave with narrowed eyes, then shake the conversation off like an unwanted flea and head back to my own division.

* * *

It only takes me about two hours to finish the work I abandoned earlier. Once I'm through I leave the Institute, and it's dusk out as I head for the barracks. There's a chill in the air, some clouds forming overhead, and I've a feeling that it'll rain later. When I get inside my room I strip down to nothing then climb under the sheets of my futon. It feels more comfortable than it usually does, and my eyes flutter shut as soon as my head hits the pillow. Usually I'd have a smoke before drifting off, but this time I don't get to, because the darkness of sleep is already washing over me.

* * *

I don't know why I wake up; I was so tired that I should have slept like a rock. But my eyes crack open anyway, to a room full of shadows. There's moonlight coming in through the shouji door, and I can hear the soft patter of rain against the roof. The need for more rest is tugging at my eyelids, but then something moves outside, and suddenly I'm wide awake. I can't see them clearly through the rice paper, but I know who it is. The thought of him being here has my heart beating faster than it was three seconds ago. After swallowing the weird lump that forms in my throat, I pull my hakama on and walk over to slide the shouji open.

What greets me isn't what I was expecting, exactly. My gaze is immediately drawn downwards, to the man's lowered hakama and the cock in his hand. I stare at it in blank disbelief (and never mind the mass of _blue _curls at its base).

The former Espada is pissing on my wall.

He's _pissing _on my wall.

"Hey, dipshit! What the fuck you starin' at?!"

"I'm staring at you pissing on my wall," I tell him, my tone monotonously incredulous (and if that wasn't an oxymoron). It takes me longer than it should, but I manage to tear my eyes away from his dick. I can't help feeling a little flustered, but who wouldn't be if they woke up in the middle of the night to someone's cock aimed at their home? Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez's cock, to be more specific. I guess it could have been worse. He could have been. . .masturbating.

And why is that thought more pleasant than it's meant to be?

Exhaling, I shake my head and fix the Arrancar with a bored stare. "Tell me something, Jaegerjaquez. Of all the places you could piss, you chose to do it by _my _shouji. Is this another one of your virile displays, or just a coincidence?"

The former Espada stares at me, the look on his face as bored as mine. His wrist gives a little jerk, and I have to concentrate on not looking as he tucks himself back into his hakama.

"Huh? Did you say somethin'?"

In response to that, I just sigh softly. I think about shutting the door and ignoring him, but then I remember that it's raining out. It isn't a heavy downpour, more of a drizzle, but one look at Jaegerjaquez and I know he's soaked. His skin looks slick, his black uniform is clinging to his muscular body, and that usually sculpted, blue hair is plastered to his forehead. As I take it all in, I can't hold back a cocked brow.

"You look a little soaked. Do you want to come in?"

The Arrancar stares at me beneath furrowed brows, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Why the fuck would I wanna come in?"

"Suit yourself."

I start closing the door, but his hand stops me when it smacks against the wooden frame. He shoves it back open, more violently than necessary, then pushes past me. I just slide the screen door back into place, leaving it open a crack to let cool air into the room. I'd go back to my futon but Jaegerjaquez is already sitting there, damp clothes and all. He's bent over as he fists handfuls of fabric in his hand, wringing the water from his hakama. I can hear the low rumble of his voice as he mumbles to himself, under the splash of water as it hits the floor.

"What was that?" I question, sitting down in front of the door. I rest with my bare back against the wall and cross my legs. The wind outside carries some rain inside, but I don't mind when the cold drops hit my skin.

"I fucking hate being wet," Jaegerjaquez grumbles, scowling at his feet as he tugs his waraji off. After tossing the sandals aside he yanks at his tabi, then discards them as well.

"If you hate being wet, then why were you out in the rain?"

"None of your fucking business!"

Rolling my eyes faintly, I shake my head and look away. It seems nothing has improved, even after four days of being apart. I still make him as angry as ever. I have to admit that I feel flattered, in a sick way, that I produce such a strong reaction. I just wish it was more positive than negative. I still remember when he threw my lighter away, and how it stung something deep inside of me. That was the closest I'd ever come to giving someone a "gift," and to have him toss it aside like it was trash... Well, I'll be perfectly honest- it was a blow to my ego. I'm not the type of person that gets hurt feelings, but that was a rare moment in which my heart sank to my knees. Since then I've tried forgetting about it. I decided to focus on more important things, like staying out of his way for both our sakes. Now, though, I can feel that pain subsiding. Because he's here in my room, and that alone makes up for what happened by that ruined building.

Brows furrowed at that particular train of thought, I turn my head to regard Jaegerjaquez once more. "You can borrow some of my clothes, if you want. They're dry."

"Like I'd want your clothes. They fuckin' stink, like that shit you smoke."

My hairless brow arching, I point at the cabinet where I keep my uniforms. "The clean ones shouldn't smell."

The other man stares at me for a long moment, his lip curling as he squints. Then he stomps over to the cabinet, ripping the doors open before he starts stripping down. He shrugs out of his jacket first, then drops his hakama and kicks it away. Apparently he doesn't care that he's stark-naked, and he seems completely oblivious to my presence as he uses one of my uniforms to wipe himself down. My eyes droop as I watch the slide of his muscles; the way his arms flex when he rubs over his legs. I follow his movements and my eyes are drawn to the curve of his ass and the bulge of his powerful thighs. A strange heat moves over me as I watch him, my breath coming harder. I clear my throat quietly and look away, pushing the door wider so more air floods the room. I could use that cold breeze right about now.

I give him a minute for privacy, and then I chance a second look. He's wearing my hakama by now, and there's a shitagi in his hand as he pulls it on. The white fabric hangs below his hips, and he leaves it open so his torso is exposed. His hair is still damp with rain, and blue strands of it fall into his eyes when he looks my way.

"Jaegerjaquez, why are you here?" I ask him seriously. I really feel like it was no coincidence that I found him outside my room. Of all the places to piss in Soul Society, why would he piss in front of mine? Why would he be hanging around the Twelfth Division (the very place that tortured him when he first got here), when he belongs with the Third?

Yeah, catching him by my room (in the dead of night) wasn't by chance in any way, shape, or form.

"I was making a pit stop before I killed that bastard shinigami with the yellow teeth."

There's a perverted humor lacing the other man's words. He's expressionless as he stares at me, until a toothy grin splits his features. Looking at that psychotic smile, I realize how bland the past four days have been without it.

"You couldn't kill him, especially with that thing around your neck," I inform him frankly.

Jaegerjaquez's grin falters, his eyes tapered. He turns so he's facing me, and at this new angle I have a better view. My white shitagi makes the skin on his chest look tanner, and the redness of his scar even angrier. That blemish is like an arrow, leading my gaze to the cavity in his abdomen. It's so weird to think that there's a hole in this man; so unlike anything I've ever experienced. I can see the fabric of my shitagi through that hole, and something about that is oddly arousing. I stare at it longer than I planned, strange scenarios playing out in my head. I have to wonder if that hole is sensitive; what he'd do if I ran my fingertips along the edge. . . My lip twitching at the corner, I glance up to eye the red collar encircling this thick throat.

"I didn't think I'd talk to you again. The last time I saw you, you said that it pissed you off whenever I lurked around."

"It does piss me off, you stupid fucking bastard."

"Yet here you are in my room."

I hear the growl in his throat; feel the heat of his gaze as he stalks towards me. I use the wall at my back for leverage as I slowly push myself to a stand.

"It pisses me off when you show up wherever I am, but I never said anything about showin' up where you are."

At those surprising words, I stare at him in mild confusion and tilt my head. "That's a good loophole, Jaegerjaquez. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you wanted to see me."

"Shut your fucking trap! You still haven't paid for what you did to me!"

When the Arrancar is this close, his shout is even louder than it normally is. It makes my heart jump a little, my nerves standing on end. I feel like squinting - the way you do when a bright light startles you - but I keep my face impassive. Jaegerjaquez, on the other hand, is full of expression, his eyes narrowed to slits and his lip twitching. I'm motionless as he stares at me, and my eyes widen slightly when he leans even closer. I have no way of telling what his next move is going to be, so color me shocked when I hear him sniff, his nose close to one of my horns. I can feel his breath on my face, and the puff of air when he exhales. That area has always been highly responsive, and that puff of air alone is enough to make me shiver.

"What are you doing?" I mutter, my voice huskier than it was a moment ago. I try leaning away but his arm shoots out, his hand splaying against the wall beside my head. I'll have to duck under his arm to get out of his way, or move in the opposite direction. But his face is that way, even closer as he keeps sniffing around my horns.

"You don't smell like a hollow. . ."

I furrow my brows a little, eyes half-lidded as I focus on keeping my breathing steady. His nose nudges the flesh surrounding one of my horns, and I have to bite my tongue so I don't moan. "Of course I don't. Why would I?" I mutter, trying my hardest not to sound strained.

I don't think I'm successful.

"These horns- they're like a hollow's," the other man mumbles, his warm breath ghosting over my hairless brow. That's another vulnerable area, so I turn my head to the side, trying to force some distance between us. He makes a gruff sound that hits my temple, and I can't help myself. I have to look back at him, and when I do his gaze immediately locks with mine.

"The Septima had horns that looked like yours. 'cept they were in a row."

My brows furrow even more, and I'm having a hard time thinking straight. It'd help if his eyes didn't look so blue under the moonlight.

"Septima. . . The Seventh Espada?"

The Arrancar nods, and his lids are droopy, just like mine. He smirks at me crookedly as he drawls, "He was fucking weak. Just like you, now that I think about it. Maybe it has somethin' ta do with those stupid ass horns?"

I snort brusquely as I look away, glancing at the shouji door. If I don't look at him, I can refocus my thoughts. A few seconds without those blue eyes staring into me, and everything should be in working order. It's in that moment of staring at the shower outside that I suddenly realize something; something that I never considered before. And now everything starts making a lot more sense. . .

"Does it make you feel nostalgic, Arrancar?" I ask him contemplatively. I slowly turn my gaze back to him, and watch as his brows knit together. My quirk my own brow at his obvious confusion. "The horns, that is. You said yourself that they're like a hollow's. That's why I make you so angry, isn't it? It's also why you came to see me. Because I remind you of your life in Hueco Mundo."

With each word I speak, his scowl deepens. I can see the tendons in his jaw standing out as he grinds his teeth. The familiar fire sparks to life in his eyes; the fire that I've missed as much as I missed his grin. I really can't help it when the corner of my mouth curls with satisfaction.

"And that's why you've been so intent on fighting me, isn't it? If you cero a hole through my chest, I'll look even more like an Espada."

"FUCKER!"

Grimmjow punches the wall, his fist passing so close that it grazes my cheekbone. Now I really am trapped, because his left hand is still splayed by my head and now his right is on the other side. He has me pinned to the wall, and in more ways than one. His scorching blue-eyed gaze is burrowing into me, and his body is close to mine, the heat of it burning my skin. I can see that his chest is heaving, rising and falling to the same rhythm of my own quiet panting. I think to myself that this is the moment - this is my chance - and before I have the time to really contemplate what I'm about to do, I lean up to crush our mouths together.

His is everything I thought it'd be. It's hot, and powerful, and his lips are slightly chapped. The taste of them is sharper than what I'm used to - tangier - and it sends a surge of desire racing through me. I thought my skin was on fire before- now that I'm kissing him, it's scorched like a fucking inferno. My mind is going crazy as I brush my tongue over his upper lip, then between the seam. I want to know what the inside of his mouth tastes like.

I want to know what the rest of his _body _tastes like.

And then he's biting down on my lower lip, breaking the delicate skin. I groan at the roughness of it; at the feel of warm blood running down my chin in rivulets. Then the next thing I know I hear a loud crack, and there's pain shooting through my jaw. The bastard has _punched _me. I blink my eyes and my vision is blurred, brows furrowed against the throbbing in my face. There's no way of knowing what kind of reaction he's looking for, but I find myself laughing breathlessly.

"You're crazy," I mutter hoarsely. I look at him past my lashes and it's still a little spotty, but I can see him just fine. He curls his hand around my throat, his grip like iron, squeezing until it's hard to breathe. I watch him as he leans in, so close that I can see the dilation of his pupils.

"Let it bruise," he growls, before his tongue falls hot on my chin. He licks at the blood, laps it up, all the way to the split on my lower lip. His tongue is rough like sandpaper, and it makes me utter a muffled groan. He snarls in turn, his teeth piercing my lip one final time. Then without another word he lets me go and walks away, into the shadows outside. The rain is really coming down now, and a strong wind kicks his shitagi into the air. I get one final glimpse of his hollow hole, and the gothic six tattooed on his lower back, before he disappears around the corner.

Still breathing hard, I slowly sink down so I'm sitting on the floor. Let it bruise. . .? It only takes me a moment to understand what he meant. The former Espada doesn't want me healing the wounds he gave me? Like I really would; they're only scratches. I tip my head back and chuckle, flexing my jaw. Is that Grimmjow's way of marking someone?

Smirking, I close my eyes and lick over my injured lip. There's a persistent ache between my legs, and I groan softly as I cup it. My cock is swollen and hard beneath my palm, the fabric of my hakama damp with precome. The cold, stormy air from outside has my whole body prickling with goosebumps, making me shudder even harder than I already am. My tongue flicks over my lip, licking at the blood obscenely, and I mumble a throaty moan as I squeeze my cock.

With the way I'm riled up, it should take me no time at all to get off.


	7. Chapter 7

The following morning, with the sun up, I can think more clearly. The first thing that comes to mind is what will Kurotsuchi-taichou do? I could really care less what anyone else thinks when they see me, blue-purple welt on my jaw and bruised, split mouth. But my captain? There's no doubt he'll come to all the right conclusions, no doubt that he'll realize what I got up to last night. There's no way of knowing how he'll react, though. Will I be reprimanded?

As I wash myself up and put on a clean uniform, I think that maybe I should go against Grimmjow and heal the bruises. Not because I'm ashamed, but because it'd be easier than dealing with Kurotsuchi-taichou's reaction, whatever that may be. I really don't need that man coming down on me for fucking around with his ex-study subject. . .

In the end, I decide to do what I planned on doing since last night. I go without the healing, and show up in the laboratories as bruised and battered as ever. I could try and hide it from my captain, but what good would that do? He's a smart man and he'd find out eventually. It's better to be up front from the start, than to be found out later on down the road. The latter approach is cowardly, in my opinion, and if I were Kurtosuchi-taichou I'd only be more offended. Besides, I've never been the type to sneak around like a gutter rat, trying to cover my dirty tracks and looking over my shoulder at every turn. It doesn't suit me, nor do I have the time or energy for it. I'd rather just lay it all on the table. If the Research and Development president decides to punish me, then so be it. I'd rather suffer the consequences now, than work myself up every day by trying to avoid it.

When the man catches his first glimpse of me, I can't really tell what's going through his head. He simply stares at me with those unnerving, golden eyes. Then he makes a soft "tsk"ing sound, and the next thing I know he's inspecting me. His cold, painted hands are on my jaw, turning my head to the left, then to the right. One of his fingers presses against the bruise on my face, pushing down hard, and I have to grit my teeth not to grunt with discomfort.

"It was the Arrancar," I mumble after a moment, my voice quiet. When the older man doesn't say anything I glance at him, then manage a small smirk. The action tugs at my fragile lower lip, splitting the delicate skin anew. My captain is still silent, and he gives me a lazy look before smiling that slow, yellow-toothed smile. He pinches my lower lip between two of his fingers and pulls it forward so he can get a better look. At that my brows furrow softly, and I lean closer so he doesn't end up detaching my lip from the gum.

"It didn't react to Nemu as strongly," the older man finally says, releasing my lip. I lick over it reflexively and watch as he scuttles away, my brows starting to furrow at his words. Nemu? Didn't react to her as strongly? What is he talking about?

At the back of the room there is a large screen, and Kurotsuchi-taichou sits down in front of it, his back to me. His fingers flash over the keys of the screen's control panel, and at first it's static before a fuzzy picture appears. My eyes widen gradually as I realize what I'm looking at.

What plays on the screen are the events from last night. I have a clear image of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, and by the angle of his arms, positioned on either side of that viewpoint, I know that we're seeing this from my eyes. It only takes a second for me to put it all together. I instantly remember when Kurotsuchi-taichou infected that Quincy kid with a bacteria, using the implant to see the fight with the Octava Espada. Why did I never consider that he'd infect me with that same bacteria?

"My my. I tested its reaction to Nemu and a male of our squad, but it didn't respond to either of them the way it did to you. To think that such a low-level creature could develop preferences. The specimen is more interesting than I initially thought."

Swallowing softly, I glance at the older man. He looks at me over his shoulder, those eyes of his wide as he smiles. He points at the screen, his finger tapping in midair. "Your assessment of its interest in the horns on your forehead was rather insightful. Now we have to wonder this: is it just your physical appearance that attracts the Arrancar, or your entire person?"

Brows furrowing, all I can do is stare at my captain. I can't describe what I'm feeling, not even sure of it. Is it shock, anger, both? No, it's neither of those. I'm taken aback from watching Grimmjow on the screen, through my eyes. It's still playing and out of the corner of my eye I can see him leaning in, licking over my chin. I feel like I'm watching it in slow motion, and there'd be heat pooling in my stomach if it wasn't for the reality of this situation. My captain saw everything (and apparently _heard _everything) that happened between the former Espada and myself.

I couldn't feel more violated.

"Taichou," I mutter, my hands clenching inside the pockets of my lab coat. I school my features, forcing them into calm indifference, before I walk closer to the older man. "This. . .method of studying the Arrancar. It's pretty invasive. Don't-"

"Silence, you reprobate."

I do as I'm told and simply watch as Kurotsuchi-taichou stares at me, his eyelids drooping. He leans back in his seat and his golden gaze shifts to the screen. I feel my own eyes drawn in the same direction, and at this point the only thing visible is the ceiling of my room. Then the screen starts to narrow, the sound of soft grunts filling my ears. Those are the sounds I was making last night, while I masturbated. It's all I can do not to reach up and drag a hand over my face. Shit. I actually feel like I should be going red in the face, and I've never felt that way in my entire life.

"You would like more privacy? Nonsense. You have made yourself a test subject, and as such you have no rights. You are no longer in the position to make any decisions for yourself."

I just frown softly, my shoulders slumping inch by inch. My captain turns the screen off (before the scene literally reached its climax) and stands up. I watch him turn towards me, his yellow eyes rolling towards the ceiling. His lips are pulled into a stiff grimace, and his large teeth are still visible. Then his golden eyes are on me as he walks closer.

"Remember this, Akon. Your personal feelings are irrelevant, forever more. I am a scientist, I don't care for your comfort. You were meant to be a researcher and you let yourself develop an emotional attachment to the specimen. Let this be a lesson to you. You're lucky I'm in a fairly good mood, otherwise I'd chastise you more severely."

The older man doesn't say another word, his piercing gaze unyielding. I can't think of anything to say, and honestly I don't want anything to say. So I keep quiet as he walks past me, and I don't turn my head to look when I hear the door click shut.

* * *

It's hard to concentrate on my work after my talk with Kurotsuchi-taichou. I can't stop thinking of the fact that he witnessed my conversation with Grimmjow; saw us kissing; heard me masturbating. And, just how long have the bacteria been inside me, anyway? How much has he seen? Did he see me using the bathroom, too?

Oh, fuck it. I was just starting to come to terms with my feelings for Grimmjow, and now I have this to deal with. Why can't this situation be easy like I want it to be? There's a new twist at every turn. Earlier this morning, I had it in my head that I'd throw the blue-haired Arrancar against the nearest wall the next time I saw him. Now, I have no idea what I'm going to do. I haven't run into him since last night, but when I do. . . Damn.

And what was that Kurotsuchi-taichou said about Nemu and some guy from our division? Was he implying that he used them for sexual tests on the former Espada? For whatever reason I never thought of that possibility before. I never thought that the eccentric scientist would go so far as to test Grimmjow's sexuality. Did he make the Arrancar have sex with them? Was there actual penetration, or just simple stimulation? I need to know what happened. It's my inborn curiosity getting to me, not any kind of jealousy. If Grimmjow did have sex with them, how did it happen? Did he enjoy it?

Thinking about it has me considering something else my captain mentioned. Apparently the Sexta Espada didn't react to them the way he reacted to me. Despite my current predicament, I can't help smiling a little. I suspected that Grimmjow had feelings for me, whatever they were, but this confirms it. He sought me out instead of making me come to him, and now I've learned that I get a better rise out of him than Nemu, or anyone else. I thought I was flattered last night, now I'm just a little thrilled. After all this I'm pretty sure I can take anything the Arrancar has in store for me. Any growl, any scowl, any biting comment or angry punch. None of it matters anymore, because now I know how he really feels.

I'm smoking a cigarette as I walk home, and it's earlier than it usually is when I leave my research. The sun is favoring the west side, but there's still a few hours left of daylight. The streets aren't so busy, either, and it's pretty peaceful when I don't have other shinigami staring at my bruised face. I suck on the cancer stick between my lips, more fiercely than usual, my eyes on the ground. I have my hands in my pockets and I'm still trying to figure out my next move, what I'll do when I see Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. It'll be hard to turn him away, especially after what happened last night. I was burning for him after he left, and when I woke up I couldn't stop thinking about getting my hands on him. I wish I could go back to that, to that sense of freedom and. . .spontaneity. Now I have to hesitate, and I have to think more than I wanted to. For the first time in a long while, I'm disappointed that I have someone like Kurotsuchi Mayuri as my captain.

Sighing to myself softly, I take one final drag of my cigarette before flicking the butt away. I decide the best course of action would be to face this head on, and as soon as possible. With that in mind I change route, heading for the Third instead of the Twelfth Division barracks. When I get there I go straight to Kira Izuru's office, knocking on the wall beside the shouji. I wait for his soft voice to answer me before I slowly slide the door open. I don't want to waste any time, and I'm about to ask the pale shinigami where Grimmjow is. I realize I don't have to, because the Sexta is standing beside Kira's desk, his arms crossed as the blond captain points at a piece of paper. I watch his nostrils flare slightly, and then his eyes are darting up to meet mine. His stare is intense, something feral coming over his features as he grins slowly. For a moment I'm frozen by that look, that burn from last night slowly working its way over my body. The hairs at the back of my neck start to stand on end, my skin prickling. If he can do this to me with just a look, I can only imagine what it'd be like to have him touching me.

"Kira," I mutter, tearing my eyes away from Grimmjow's. I have to remember my conversation with Kurtosuchi-taichou. I have to focus on the bacteria that I _know _is still in my system. I can't let myself get caught up in the blue-haired Arrancar, not now. Not only is my own privacy at risk, but so is his. The least I can do is concentrate on someone else, so Grimmjow isn't subjected to my captain's scientific voyeurism.

"Akon," the blond shinigami replies, a trace of alarm in his tone. He puts the document in his hand down on the desk, and his normally furrowed brows pull even tighter together. "What happened to your face?"

I can't help it- I actually _smirk_. "Courtesy of that Arrancar," I tell the other man, pointing towards Grimmjow without looking at him. Kira's brows furrow even more, if that's at all possible, and he glances at the former Espada before looking back at me.

"I'm here to talk to him about it," I continue. "If that's okay with you. It shouldn't take that long, unless you were showing him something important?"

"He never has anything important to show anyone."

It's Grimmjow who answers, his hands shoved into his pockets as he saunters towards me. His head tips back as he closes in, blue eyes roving my body. That action alone has my skin heating up, my heart thrumming faster. I lick over my bruised lip and glance at Kira, waiting for his confirmation. The man just smiles softly and motions with his fingers dismissively.

"It was nothing; go ahead."

"Thanks," I mumble as I smirk. I ignore Grimmjow as he pushes past me, and remember my manners long enough to ask Kira one more thing.

"Hey, how about you? Has running things gotten any easier?"

The pale man laughs softly and sits down at his desk while collecting a stack of papers together, arranging them neatly. "You could say that. Things are finally starting to quiet down."

Quirking a hairless brow, I tap the door frame with my knuckles. "Great. Keep it up, Kira-taichou."

In response to that the other shinigami just smiles faintly as he nods. I incline my chin as a silent goodbye before sliding the shouji shut. When I turn to see the blue-haired Espada he's already walking down the hall, heading for his room.

"You look better when I beat you black an' blue."

The corner of my mouth curls, but I keep my eyes on the wall as I follow behind him. "And you look better when you're wet."

The Arrancar snorts loudly, and I glance up long enough to see him looking at me over his shoulder. There's a sneer on his face, but he doesn't respond as he turns the corner. I recognize this hallway from before, when I came to see him the first time. I also recognize the shouji door leading to his room, and I stand behind him quietly as he slides it open. The darkness that greets us is a little troubling, but I don't pay it any attention as I follow him inside. I barely have the shouji shut behind us before he has a handful of my uniform and my back against the wall.

His mouth collides with mine, a growl tearing from his throat. He kisses me with a force and hunger that I haven't experienced in years, making my whole body quiver. All logic flies out the window and any resolve I had about keeping things innocent gets lost in the haze. I grip his arms, bunching the fabric of his jacket between my fingers, and whether it's to pull him closer or just anchor myself, I'm not sure. My mouth is already open, letting his tongue inside, the sharp taste of it so good that it's almost sweet. It's getting harder and harder to think, especially when he forces his way between my legs and _grinds _against me.

Ah, fuck. . . I could really stay like this forever. Every fiber of my being is on fire, every nerve is sparking like electricity. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is rocking against me and with every bucking motion of his hips I feel the hard mass trapped inside his hakama. It feels so fucking good and his rough hands are everywhere, clawing at my thighs and my ass; yanking on my clothes. His breath is hot like steam as he pants, his mouth latching onto the skin just below my jaw. I tip my head back instinctively, offering more of my throat to him. My lashes flutter when I feel that rough, sandpaper tongue on my neck, its swipes coaxing a moan from my mouth. It's almost too much, my fingers aching for some kind of purchase, scratching at his sides. I reach around his waist, letting my hands splay over his bare lower back. I expected to feel nothing but hot searing flesh, but the tips of my fingers connect with something else. . . I feel nothing but air, and I realize they're hovering over his hollow hole...

Fuck, that damned hollow hole. . . I can't help myself, I've been itching to touch it ever since I saw it; been _dying _for it. I curl my fingers around the edge and the skin inside the void is cold. Surprisingly cold compared to the rest of him; compared to my own scorching flesh. It makes me groan, and I dig my blunt nails against the hole, using it for leverage as I arch up, my legs draped over his thighs and my throbbing cock pressing flush against his.

The blue-haired Arrancar actually _whines_.

I don't know what it is about that sound but it rattles my reality. I suddenly realize where I am, realize what I'm doing, remember the whole purpose for why I came here to begin with. My body is aching for his and I know my cock is weeping for it, but willpower be damned. I press my hands to his chest and shove him away, pushing hard enough to send him crashing against the opposite wall. There's a loud _thud _when his back slams into the solid surface. With his weight gone I almost fall over, my legs trembling slightly as I use the wall behind me for balance. The Sexta Espada looks shocked and is completely frozen as he stares at me with wide eyes. His chest is rising and falling heavily, and then he gives me one of the meanest scowls I've ever seen.

"What the FUCK?" he shouts, in a gravelly snarl that's barely human.

I just swallow thickly and close my eyes. It's hard not to look at him, but giving Kurotsuchi-taichou a front row seat to all of this is even worse.

Hell, who am I trying to kid? I just spent the last five minutes dry humping like an animal, front row seat my ass.

"I didn't come here for that," I finally mumble, sounding breathless and just a little strained. It isn't any wonder why, when my dick is still rock hard and screaming for attention.

"Why the fuck else would you come here?" the other man barks, his angry voice closer than it was a moment ago. He _feels _closer, too, the heat of his body washing over mine in angry waves. I crack my eyes open, and settle for a look of indifference as I focus my gaze on his abdomen.

"LOOK AT ME, BITCH!"

My brows furrow and I tilt my head sideways, effectively dodging the other man's fist. No matter how hard I try my breathing won't settle down, so I keep my lips open on a soft part. It's easier to get air that way and I focus on feeding my lungs, using that to soothe me as I meet his fiery gaze. There's so much emotion burning there that I can't distinguish one thing from the next. But there are two things that anyone could identify, and that's the combined power of fury and relentless lust as he glares at me.

I don't know why, but I feel the need to console him somehow; to calm him down. I should just leave, push past him and walk out without looking back. But I can't do that because I couldn't get my legs to move even if I wanted them to. I think he put a hole in the wall with that punch intended for my head, and his fist is still there beside me. So I reach up to curl my fingers around his forearm, the movement slow, my thumb rubbing the inside of his wrist. A flash of confusion ignites his gaze and he tries to yank his arm away. I hold onto his wrist and tighten my grip, willing him to stay still.

For a moment we're both completely motionless, with just the sound of our slowing breath. There are a million thoughts running through my head, all of them centered on what to do next. I don't know what I should tell him, or if I should tell him anything at all. Would he believe me if I told him that my captain could see and hear everything we do? What would _Kurotsuchi Mayuri_ do if I gave him away? I'm already on his bad side for having feelings for the ex-Espada, and running my mouth will only make things worse, I'm sure of it. I really have no idea what the consequences would be. Kurotsuchi-taichou could remove me from the Research and Development Institute if he wanted to - from the entire Twelfth Division, even. Could he strip me of my status as a shinigami altogether? A dark voice in the back of my mind tells me that he could go so far as to kill me, but I'd rather not listen to _that_. This offense couldn't be that bad, could it? I shouldn't lose my life over something like this. Anger and retribution I expect, but surely not _death_.

It's in that moment that I come to one simple conclusion. This isn't about me, it's about Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. It's about people using him for their own interest, it's about people taking advantage of him. I'd be one of those people if I let this continue without telling him. He deserves to know that someone could be watching him, someone who isn't me, and in his most intimate moments. I know I let him down that one time, with the reiatsu limiter in front of the Men's Association. I know that's why he was so angry with me. I can't turn on him a second time by keeping him in the dark. I owe him more than that.

"I came here to tell you something," I mutter. His glare isn't as heated as it was, but his short blue brows are still furrowed. I want to rub my thumb over his wrist again. I want to lean over and lick his forearm, all the way up until I make contact with his inner elbow. I want to suck on the skin there and just let go.

I want to do so many things.

Instead I close my eyes and lean my head back as I exhale. "My captain saw us last night."

Silence. He moves his arm away and I'm forced to let go of him.

"The fuck are you talkin' about?"

Frowning softly, I open my eyes again so I can see him. He's staring at me with a soft scowl, a look of distrust coming over him. He tilts his head a little and I can see his muscles getting tense, the hands at his sides curling into white-knuckled fists.

"He has a bacteria that he uses to infect other people," I mumble slowly. "When he implants that bacteria inside someone, it lets him observe pretty much anything that they're experiencing."

Trailing off, I watch as those words sink in. I can see the silent fury building inside of Grimmjow. I can see his chest starting to heave a little; the muscles in his jaw standing out as he grinds his teeth.

"You fucking _bastard,_" he growls, his upper lip curling. He looks like a wild cat when it bares its teeth before the kill.

"You think I _knew?_" I mutter, my own hairless brow forming a hard frown. He just hisses at me and slams his fist against the wall behind him.

"Of course you fuckin' knew! You're his _bitch,_ aren't you? He's your _captain_."

That last word is spat at me like venom, and I pinch my lips together bitterly. I want to argue, but getting worked up to the point that we're both yelling will only make things worse. So I just stare at him unflinchingly, trying to remain as calm as possible as he starts stalking back and forth. His gaze never leaves me and there's hatred burning in those blue irises, his chest heaving harder and harder with each step.

"I'm a fuckin' science project to you bastard shinigami! I know exactly what you're doin'! Don't think for a second that I _don't know_."

Suddenly, he's grabbing me by my lab coat and hauling me towards the shouji door.

_"Get the fuck out."_

His hiss is close to my ear, and I feel a growl of my own working its way up my throat, anger and frustration building inside me. "No, I'm not _done,_" I tell him between gritted teeth. I've never felt this fire before, this swell of heat in my chest. I can't remember the last time I felt this kind of energy thrumming inside me. This stubborn Espada really has no idea who he's dealing with. I may have seemed calmly composed before, accommodating to his bad mood swings, but I'm the farthest thing from a pushover.

One good thing about that collar being around his throat, is that it makes him weaker than he should be. His brute strength is powerful on its own, but without his spiritual pressure to back it up, it's easy to break free of his grasp. I jerk out of his hold and shove him back, scowling at him as he hits the shouji. The man doesn't do anything, just glares at me as I walk further into his room.

"You can't honestly think I was in on it. I have my sick kicks, I'll admit it, but my captain watching me fuck an Arrancar isn't one of them. Dammit, Grimmjow, that's why I came here. I wanted you to _know_."

"Bullshit."

The other man's voice is softer than before, but no less harsh. He sends me a stern look beneath furrowed brows. "I know what you bastards are. You, and that yellow-toothed freak, and _all _you fuckin' shinigami have been usin' me. I'm not fuckin' stupid, Akon. But I'll tell you one thing. I'll be the one who gets the last laugh."

I'm still scowling a little, my eyes on my hands as I run them over my lab coat, smoothing the rumbled fabric. "Everyone gets used around here."

The words are out of my mouth before I have time to filter them. I shouldn't be talking so freely, what with the surveillance bacteria inside of me. There's just something about Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez that gets under my skin; something that shakes me up and rattles my usually clear, level-headed mind. Besides, I can't help feeling a little bitter. The Arrancar being in Soul Society has opened my eyes, so to speak. I've realized things about shinigami conduct that I never paid attention to before. I'm bitter for his situation, and now I'm bitter for my own. He's being used by Seireitei and just a few hours ago I learned that I'm being used by my captain. Grimmjow may not realize it, but we're both in the same boat, essentially.

With a loud exhalation, I drop my hands to my sides and look at him. I note his weirdly unreadable expression, and feel my own irritated features settling to cool apathy. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know what was really going on. You should consider yourself lucky, you weren't the one whose jerk session ended up on the big screen."

Grimmjow doesn't say anything, his short, blue brows furrowed. He stares at my face for a few seconds, before his eyes make a detour south. I can't help the way my brow arches as he eyes my crotch.

"Big screen, huh?"

I chuckle softly and look away. "Yeah. It's like a TV, or a computer monitor. You had those in Los Noches, right?"

He ignores my question in favor of his own. "You got off ta me?"

My eyes droop a little, and my hands seek the sanctuary of my pockets. I think back to last night, remembering the things I'd imagined as I stroked myself. Countless scenarios had played out in my mind, like what it'd feel like if I had that rough sandpaper tongue on my cock. There was something about the image of that blue-haired head nestled in my lap, and I came hard enough to hurt. The bone-shattering pleasure of that orgasm was like nothing I'd ever felt. Sure, I'd gotten off before, but it had never been quite _that _powerful.

"Masturbating to a science project, it's not something I normally do," I mumble, a hint of humor lacing my words. I glance in Grimmjow's direction, a dry smirk tugging the corner of my mouth. His eyes are on my face again, making my smirk grow by a fraction. I can't tell what he's thinking, and though I'd like to know, something tells me that I should just take off and leave this whole thing behind me. Only trouble is, he's still standing in front of the shouji, his large body blocking my path.

"Wouldn't mind being on this 'big screen' you're yappin' about."

His words have my hairless brow knitting together. I watch him as he walks toward me, his movements slow, fluid and relaxed. His head is tipped back, forcing his angular jaw into the usual arrogant incline. He stares down at me with a dull look, and then a slow grin starts creeping its way across his features.

"I don't have anything ta hide from you _shinigami_. Sick fuckers want a show? I'll give you one."

My brows go up a little, confusion gripping me. I'm not sure what he means by that, and I don't have time to figure it out. Before I know it he's grabbing me by my clothes, and the sound of ripping fabric is loud in my ears, his strong hands tearing my white lab coat down the middle. I inhale sharply, and his grin is wild as he stares at me with glowing, feral eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

So, Akon told me that his bastard captain put some kind of bacteria in his system that lets him see everything we do. Does it piss me off? Of course it fuckin' pisses me off. Pisses me off so damn bad that I was seeing red. I thought I'd gotten rid of that yellow-toothed fucker, now he's in my business all over again. These damned shinigami just _don't know when to fucking quit_. I'm already in a piss-poor mood over being stuck in this hell hole, shackled like an animal, I don't need some freak spyin' on me.

I could've thrown Akon out. In fact, that was my first fucking instinct. Throw the two timing rat out and never look at him again. Or better yet, hunt the bastard down, rip off his head, then shit down his throat and piss on his corpse. I'd hunt him after throwing him out 'cause it'd be funner for me to give him a false sense of security. It'd be funner for me to jump him when he least expects it, and stalking someone when they're not suspecting is the best fuckin' thrill that I've ever known.

But then I got another idea. An even _better _idea. Because fuck these shinigami if they really think they've got one on me. The yellow-toothed bastard wants to spy on me? Shit, it pisses me off but it'd piss me off even more if I let him think that he's won. I don't check myself for _anyone,_ especially not some freak _shinigami_. I was planning on fucking Akon black and blue, and I'm not gonna stop myself now. I do whatever the fuck I want, _when _I want. These fuckers can't control me no matter how hard they try.

Plus, I'd like to take this opportunity to express one big _Fuck You._ I'm gonna pin Akon down and fuck him so raw that he might bleed out when we're through. All the while I'll be grinning and looking him in the eye to make sure his _captain _sees every gory detail. If the bastard wants to use his own subordinate to get info on _me,_then fuck. I'll give him all the info he wants, and I'll use his puppet even worse.

Deep down I know that this is just my way of putting claim on what's _mine_. _I _marked Akon. _I _made the horned dipshit _my _fucking territory. Fuck his captain for thinking that he could use what's _mine_. If anyone's gonna use Akon, it's gonna be _me_.

I'll show that yellow-toothed freak what it _really _is to use someone.

With the usual grin, I yank the rest of Akon's white uniform off and throw it aside. The look on his face is surprised but he doesn't do anything, and I don't give him time to as I shove him back so he falls on my futon. The sheets are already in a heap because I never did get around to fixing 'em, but it looks kinda good, like I've already taken the horned shinigami for five or six rounds. The only thing missing is his blood and come staining those dirty sheets.

"Grimmjow, what are you doing?"

As usual Akon's voice is low and calm. If he's getting hot and bothered it's hard to tell by his tone. But his hairless brows are furrowed faintly, and his eyes are dark when he looks at me. I've never really noticed his eyes before, so I don't know if they're naturally that black or if they're all pupil. I just grin at him and narrow my eyes, then step closer and kneel down in front of his legs. He's propped up on his elbows and his brow arches faintly as he watches me. I grin wider and reach down to take his waraji and tabi off.

"What the fuck does it look like, dipshit? Stop asking stupid questions and take your fuckin' clothes off."

He doesn't answer right away, just stares at me silently like he doesn't know what's going on. Then his dark gaze drifts sideways and he falls back, lying flat on the futon as his hands go to the obi around his waist.

"I didn't think you'd want to after I told you that my captain could see," Akon mumbles inquisitively as his fingers work, tugging the sash free. I snort loudly and grip his hakama, yanking it down with one sharp tug. It snags around his knees and he gives a little grunt. My eyes are on his legs and I watch as the muscles in his thighs tighten, bunching into thick cords under his skin. They're bigger than I thought they'd be, and so is his dick as it lies limp between his legs. The fucking bastard, he isn't even hard yet.

I glare at the offending cock and yank Akon's hakama the rest of the way down. I get his feet out of it and toss it away, leaning down to lick over his knee.

"Maybe you should stop thinking so fuckin' much," I mutter, my teeth nipping at his flesh. It's smooth and salty against my mouth as I work my way up quickly, dragging my tongue over his inner thigh. " 'cause obviously you ain't very good at it."

Akon chuckles huskily, sounding more breathless than he did a moment ago. It makes his body shake beneath me and I groan softly as I suck on a patch of skin.

"I'm very good at it, actually. I know you just have something to prove right now, Grimmjow."

Pausing in my ministrations, I glance up to see the other man looking down at me. There's a lazy little smirk on his face, and if I didn't know any fucking better I'd say that he's _smug_. The fucking bastard. _I'm_supposed to be the smug one. I'm the only one who gets to smirk and shoot cocky stares. I just growl lowly and bite down, sinking my teeth into his thigh so hard that they pierce his flesh. His whole body jerks and his leg gives a little reflexive kick.

"Ah, fuck. . ."

There, that's more like it. This time his voice isn't as controlled as it usually is, and that arrogant tone is gone. I hum my happiness and taste metal on my tongue, feel his blood pooling in my mouth as I shrug my jacket off. It falls to the floor and I shuffle closer on my knees, spreading his legs wider to make room for myself. He's breathing harder now and his cock is getting hard, swelling with heat as it rises towards his stomach. I hold his legs apart with my hands on his thighs, my fingers gripping his flesh like merciless claws. Then I lean forward and nudge his dick with my nose, eyes drooping as I sniff. His scent is sharp enough to send blood straight to my groin, and I snort gruffly, blowing air against his cock. It forces a moan out of him and his legs quiver under my hands. I smirk and press my tongue against his cock, licking up the hard shaft in one long, slow swipe.

I thought Akon was tense before, now he's wound as tight as a fucking spring. A hoarse, strangled little grunt sounds above me, and the horned shinigami shifts around on the futon. I watch as he sits up, his head tipped back, eyes closed as he starts removing what's left of his uniform. I feel my mouth going dry as the white and black robes fall off his shoulders and slide down his biceps. His shoulders are broader than I thought they were, and he has even more muscle than what I glimpsed the other day. The bastard is ripped, but without being too bulky. He looks toned and fucking. . ._strong_. It makes me growl, itching to bite and devour. Why the fuck does he wear that uniform when he looks like _this _underneath it?

A second later and his hand is in my hair, yanking my head away from his cock. I don't know whether to snarl with fury or grunt in surprise. I know how stupefied I must look; I can feel it written all over my face. But I can't let him see me off balance, so I shake the expression in favor of a mean scowl.

"I've never had to tell anyone this. Don't even think about biting it."

For a moment I have no fucking clue what he's talking about. Then I'm grinning slowly as my eyes narrow to sinister slits. "Read my fuckin' mind, shinigami. You look good enough to _eat_."

Akon doesn't say anything, but his eyes hood and there's a flush working its way from his cheeks all the way down his throat. His chest is heaving a little faster with each breath he takes, and I grin even wider, feeling the feral glint in my eyes as I stare at him. I snap my teeth at his cock, stopping just short of the head. He gives a jerk and I don't know if he's actually flinching or just reacting out of reflex. But he's really starting to pant at this point, and his grip on my hair is so fucking tight that it's actually hurting my scalp. Then his other hand is in my hair and he's cupping my head, his fingers gliding over my scalp and his thumbs brushing along my eyebrows. It's such a weird thing for him to do, like he's fucking. . ._petting _me. My brows end up furrowing a little but I can't deny the shudder racing down my spine. My scalp is tingling and my skin is starting to catch on fire, little sparks of pleasure going off in my belly. Akon tilts my head back for me and he drags his nails over my scalp, combing his fingers through my hair, teasing the sensitive skin behind my ear, then rubbing the damned _cartilage _between his fingers.

All of it makes my fucking _toes _curl, an almost-whine trapped inside my throat. He's hunched over me and he starts to lean down, so I hold onto his thighs for purchase and surge up to meet him halfway.

The kiss isn't as violent as I wanted it to be, but it's still all teeth and tongue. It feels good, especially when Akon's hands go back to my hair, pulling and twisting the strands. I let my eyes shut and concentrate on just kissing him, devouring that mouth, taking from it everything that I want. He tastes bitter, like the shit he smokes, but I don't give a fuck. I thought I'd hate it like I hated those cigarettes, but in all actuality I find myself liking it instead.

Any sweeter and it wouldn't be Akon.

His hands go to my neck as I press up. I crawl into his lap and rest with my legs draped over his, straddling his waist. He pants against my mouth and his head is forced back now that I'm looming over him instead of kneeling between his legs. I use my new position to my advantage, grinning at him as I smack his arms away so his hands release my neck. Then I grab a hold of his hair, crushing a handful of those spiky strands in my fist. It's thick and coarse and the sharp ends stab my palm, making it itch. His eyes are barely open and I yank his head back, baring his throat as one taut, strained looking column. Akon just groans and licks over his swollen lips, and I growl in response while leaning down to drag my tongue over his jugular.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to?"

Those words have me pausing, and I pull back just far enough to see him. My eyes narrow suspiciously and I cock an unimpressed eyebrow. "The fuck do you mean?"

Akon stares back at me with hazy eyes. It's hard to take him seriously when his mouth is open like that, when his face is flushed, when his eyes are overcome with lust, and when there's a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. That sheen brings my attention to his horns, and I can't help staring at them, my own eyes drooping. I hadn't realized why I liked them so much until Akon said something about it. I've never put much thought into the hows and whys of things; I'm more concerned with what _is_. His horns were there and I liked 'em, and that's all there was to it. I couldn't have given two fucks as to _why _I liked 'em.

But now when I stare at him, I can't help imagining what he'd look like as an actual Arrancar. I can't help imagining what he'd look like with a gaping hole somewhere on his body, and with more bone litter from a broken mask.

"I mean, did you ever consider the fact that maybe I don't want to fuck you?"

His voice brings me back and I blink. Glancing at his eyes instead of his horns, I frown and furrow my brows. "Give me a fuckin' break, Akon. You've been all over me. Like hell you don't wanna fuck."

The horned shinigami smirks softly, and I feel him trying to tilt his head like he always does. But my hand in his hair restricts his movement, so he settles for narrowing his eyes, the look of them quietly mocking. "It's safe to say that things have changed since then."

Growling lowly, I scowl at Akon and shove his chest. He falls back against the futon, his body still trapped beneath me. I continue to glare as I resist the urge to collect snot at the back of my throat and spit it at him.

"Are you talking about that bacteria shit?"

"Our first fuck under a microscope wasn't what I had in mind, exactly."

At that I snort in disgust, my upper curling. "It's just a fucking _fuck_. Don't make it sound like somethin' girly an' special. And don't be a fuckin' pussy, either. I thought you were a fuckin' _scientist_. Don't you wanna go along with your _captain's study?_ Ain'chya _turned on,_you sick fuck?"

I end my sentence with scorn as I sneer. Then I grab both of his wrists and pin them above his head, holding him down as I grind my hips slowly. For all his talk he's still hard as a fucking rock, and I can feel his dick throbbing as I move over it. Akon's fingers give a twitch, and then they curl to form white-knuckled fists. I watch his face as I rock against him- watch the way his eyes scrunch, and the way his lips move over clenched teeth. His head tips back on a quiet moan, and his hips buck violently so they collide with mine. The sudden shock to my cock has me groaning in a throaty rush, and I spread my legs wider so his thrusting hips have better access. I hold onto his wrists so hard that I think I'll snap the bone, but I couldn't care less. It feels too good rocking against him, to have his hips meeting mine for every thrust. My body is on fire and my cock is screaming for release, and it's then that I realize it's still trapped inside my hakama.

With an angry curse I let go of Akon's wrist so I can rip my obi off. Once I've thrown it away I lift my hips and push my hakama down, then lean forward with both hands planted on either side of his head while I kick it off. With a few practiced maneuvers I manage to toe out of both my waraji and tabi. He watches all this past his lashes, and I flash him a shit-eating grin, baring my teeth. Now that I'm just as naked as he is, I lean back again so I'm sitting all of my weight on his visibly aching cock. He utters a muffled groan and the next thing I know, I'm slapping him across the face.

I don't know what came over me in that moment, but fuck if it didn't feel _good_. The way my palm stings, the sharp sound that rings around us when my hand meets his cheek, his _wide _eyes. . . It all makes me sport a grin so fuckin' huge that my cheeks start to hurt.

"I didn't take you for the smacking type," Akon finally says after a long pause. His voice is quiet but steady, and he turns his head back to look at me. For a second his expression is unreadable, but then a barely there smirk turns the corner of his mouth. I chuckle huskily and bring my hand down on his chest, relishing in the second sharp sound.

"That's for bein' a pussy. If you wanna act like a bitch, I'll treat you like one."

It's Akon's turn to chuckle, his chest bouncing beneath my hand. He takes the initiative to arch his hips up, rolling them in a languid wave. It feels good, almost _too _good. I like his body between my legs too much, so I send him a half-hearted scowl and move away. His brows arches a little as he watches me, and he sits up so he's resting on his elbows. The way he tilts his head looks questioning, and I just leer at him as I reach under the mattress for a tub of lube.

"Bitches don't top 'cause they don't got the equipment," I inform him in a lazy drawl, cocking an eyebrow. He just smirks softly and I shove his hip with my foot, hard enough to roll him so he's on his stomach. He rests on his elbows again and the bored way in which he lays there makes it look like any day at the beach. I mutter a dismissive "tch" as I move behind him. After nudging his legs apart with my knees, I unscrew the top of the lube and grab hold of his hips, using my grip to force his ass up. He goes with it and readjusts so he's on his knees, then turns his head to look at me over his shoulder.

"With the way you moved I wouldn't be surprised if you've taken cock before, Grimmjow. You looked a little too happy sitting in my lap, like you were just dying to ride me."

Scowling, I sneer at Akon and make a derisive sound. Like fuck I was dying for it. I was just getting under his collar, showing him that he was putty in my hands and that he had no fucking say in the matter. Whether he _wanted _this or not wasn't up for debate. Even if he was fighting me I'd still force him down and fuck him into oblivion. As it is he's perfectly willing, and he looks like a bitch in heat with his ass in the air like that. I give it a good look, keeping my stare as bored as possible so he won't see how appreciative I really am. I eye the sack hanging between his spread legs, before reaching out to palm it. Akon groans at my touch and presses back, every muscle in his backside flexing. My eyes roam over his naked body- up his strong thighs, his tight looking ass, over his back. His head is hanging down and his shoulders are hunched, sweat beading along his spine.

I wanna bite him.

I growl throatily and squeeze his balls too tight. His grunt stutters and he sends me a look over his shoulder, his voice strained as he pants, "You take longer with foreplay than I thought you would. Do you care enough to make sure I'm riled up before getting on with it?"

Growling louder, I bare my teeth menacingly and let go of his balls. I have a brief thought in which I rip his nuts from his body and shove them down his throat, but it's gone in an instant. I'm too busy grabbing his hips and yanking them closer to give way to more violent fantasies. I stare at him blandly and dig two fingers into the lube, then spread his ass and rub them over his entrance. I don't give him much time to prepare himself before I push in, resisting his contracting muscles and shoving my way to the third knuckle. His whole body goes rigid and I watch him shift around, his hands grappling the sheets before he pushes himself up so his arms are straight. I gotta say that I liked it better when he was on his elbows, because he looked dirtier with his ass in the air. But I'm really too horny to complain, so I twist my fingers, thrusting them impatiently to open him up.

"Get that twisted look off your face, bitch. Grow a pair and take it," I tell him, staring at his furrowed brows and ignoring the way he jerks. I have my left arm around his thighs so he can't move away, and after a few more pumps I add the third finger and crook them together. His back arches and his legs quiver in my hold. He's panting harshly at this point and he looks back at me, his face red and his eyes burning with lust.

"I wasn't complaining, was I?" he utters in a husky voice. I smirk and force my fingers deeper, twisting them around and spreading them to scissor him open. I keep on twisting them, harder and harder until Akon's eyes screw shut and he makes a strained sound.

Looks like I found what I was looking for.

Grinning wider, I press my fingers against his prostate, stabbing it as he rocks back. I let go of his legs and let him move, his hips pumping back and forth as I use my free hand to coat my cock.

"Why. . .do you have lube?" Akon pants between breaths. I remove my fingers and his body shudders visibly, black head of hair falling down. I rub my hands up his thighs roughly, then I grab hold of his hips and pull them back, forcing him against my cock. I don't care if he got enough prep. Frankly, I don't know why I bothered with it at all. If I hurt him it's his own fuckin' problem, not mine. I keep that in mind as I start pushing into him, forcing the head of my cock past the first ring of muscle.

"I have it to get off, why the fuck else? Dumbass."

With a lazy smirk I buck my hips, and more of my dick slides in, filling him about halfway. He gasps breathlessly and I can see his hands scrambling for something good to hold onto. He settles for grasping the sheets in his fist, then splaying his other hand over the wall. I reach around his body and rub the palm of my hand over his cock, moving it in circles from base to tip. It earns me a throaty groan and Akon arches back, moving his hips to take more of my cock. A few more inches and I'm nestled tight, his ass cradled against my hips. He's clamping down so hard that it actually _hurts,_ so I close my eyes and focus all my energy on just fucking _breathing_.

Wrapping my fingers around his cock, I stroke up and rub my thumb over the dripping slit. Maybe if I distract him with _this,_ he'll fucking relax and ease up. Then I wouldn't feel like my cock is losing circulation and that his ass is gonna choke the fucking life out of it. It seems to be working because his muscles loosen up, however slowly, and it feels like he's _opening _around me. That makes me shudder and I squeeze his dick, holding it in my hand like it's good stuff that I need to look after.

"The slide's better with lube," I mutter hoarsely. As if to prove my point I jerk my hand, moving it over Akon's straining cock. He may be relaxing but he's still tight as fuck, and it's all I can do not to pin him down and take his ass for a ride that he won't forget for a whole week. Leaning over him I bite his shoulder, gnawing on his flesh and wiggling my hips. There's a smirk on my face when he groans and wiggles his back.

That's all it takes, and I can't hold off any longer. I push Akon forward, forcing him down so he's lying on the bed instead of kneeling. He's pressed tight against the mattress under my weight, his legs spread wide open on either side of mine. He looks a little dazed as he turns his head to the side to rest his cheek against the futon. His eyes are barely open and his lips part on heavy breaths. I nuzzle the back of his head, his dark hair rough against my face, and then I start licking behind his ear as I move my hips.

It's even better than I thought it'd be. Akon's skin is hot and sticky against my own, slick with sweat as I thrust into him. It makes me dizzy to fuck him like this; to have him trapped underneath me with nowhere to go. It makes me dizzy to feel how sweltering his body is and to hear him groaning and gasping in that rough voice. I sink my teeth into the shell of his ear and yank back, and his resounding cry is so throaty that I feel it reverberating against my chest. I growl my reply and attach my mouth to his throat, sucking blood to the surface to leave an angry mark as I slide my hands down his toned torso. His muscles move under my hands, his abs flexing against my fingers. I claw at that hard surface and keep going south, lower and lower.

Akon utters a weak groan and pushes his hips up, lifting them as high as they'll go with my body restricting them. His legs spread wider as he does it and I'm forced even deeper inside him. My lashes flutter and I hiss like a rabid animal, resting my forehead between his sweaty shoulder blades. My hand finds his cock and I curl my fingers around it, stroking him in time with my hips. He's getting louder now and he keeps pushing, re-shifting so he's on all fours. I go with him and have to use all my willpower to sit up instead of draping myself over his back. I keep my hand on his dick and move the other to his thigh, using it for leverage. I don't even have to do anything at this point, because Akon's good enough on his own. I watch him past my lashes as he moves, thrusting back on my cock and then forward into the tunnel of my fist. There's sweat running down his spine, pooling at the small of his back and fanning over his waist. His groans are the huskiest I've ever heard them, rasping in his throat like I'm tearing them out of him with my bare hands.

It's the best thing I've ever seen. It's the best anyone's ever looked on all fours with my cock shoved up their ass. It's the best anyone's ever sounded as I fucked them. My heart is beating erratically and every inch of me is on fire, burning with need so bright and hot that I can barely see straight. My head lolls back and my eyes start to roll as my mouth falls open. I grunt louder with every thrust, and I drag my hands over Akon's thighs, feeling those strong muscles flex beneath my touch. My balls are starting to draw tight and I know that I'll go over at any minute.

But I'll be fucking damned if I come first.

I snarl like something possessed and fist his hair to yank his head back. He cries out and the sound is strangled; I know that I've pulled hard enough to hurt, that his throat is probably drawn so tight that it's hard for him to breathe. But I just yank harder as I tilt my hips back, so I have nothing but the head of my cock inside him. He spasms around me and it feels desperate, like he's trying to suck me back in. I grin like an idiot as I claw down his back, hard enough to break the skin. The sight of blood on that sweaty, muscular back makes me groan, and I grasp his hips in a punishing grip before surging into him.

Now I have complete control and there's nothing Akon can do but ride it out. I fuck him the hardest I've fucked anyone, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the air as I slam into him. I aim for that spot inside him with every thrust, stabbing it viciously. My fingers are relentless as they tear into his hips, keeping his ass hostage to my cock. My pants are so loud that I can't even hear his, but I can feel him getting close. I can feel his body going tight, his ass clenching around my cock. Those muscles bear down so hard that I think I can't move anymore, and then Akon fucking _growls_.

I never thought I'd hear a sound that guttural coming from his throat. He always seemed too disinterested for primal groans like that. And that's what drives me crazy, sends me careening over the edge in blind pleasure. I slam into him wildly, and then I force my cock as deep inside him as it'll go. I throw my head back with a roar as my orgasm crashes into me. Come shoots from my cock and it feels more like a fucking eruption. I wouldn't be surprised if I ruptured something. . .It seems to go on forever, and I whimper uselessly as I rock my hips, riding it out until it finally ends.

When the glaring satisfaction is gone, I groan tiredly and collapse. Akon gives out under me and we fall in a heap on the futon, his body crushed beneath mine. He doesn't seem to care, motionless as he pants. His back heaves against my chest and I bite at the patch of skin between his shoulder blades. He makes a muffled sound and hunches his shoulders, giving me even more flesh to latch onto. My eyes droop and I gnaw on it lazily, lapping at the slick skin and tasting salty sweat. I moan my appreciation, then sink my teeth in so blood coats my mouth.

Akon's laugh is breathless and scratchy. It sounds like his throat oughtta be sore. I could make it even sorer, and I contemplate shoving my dick in his mouth once I've recovered.

"I think all of Seireitei heard that one."

His statement doesn't register at first, floating around in my groggy mind. Then it clicks and I chuckle, leaning up to snort air over the nape of his neck. He shifts under me and I think I hear a little moan, but I don't do much about it. I just smirk smugly and give his nape one final lick, before sitting up and pulling out of him. Akon utters a soft grunt, his hairless brow furrowed. Then his face smooths again and he looks nothing but sated.

And thoroughly _fucked,_I note. He appears to be boneless lying there, his legs still spread around my kneeling form. There's scratches all down his back, a bloody bite between his shoulders, and I know if I turned him over there'd be another bloody bite on his inner thigh and more scratches. It makes me grin to see my work, especially when I glimpse a trickle of come seeping from his ass.

"I made the kill, I gotta shout my victory," I drawl, lazy and cocky. I toss my head and shake out my sweaty hair, then swing my arms back so my spine pops. A throaty sigh leaves me and I fall sideways, lying on my back beside him. I give him a bland look out of the corner of my eye but he doesn't notice. His eyes are closed and he starts to sit up slowly. It looks like he's sleepwalking, his body moving in slow motion as he swings his legs over the futon. He sits on the edge of the mattress with his back to me, and I watch him silently as he feels over the scratches I gave him.

Snorting dismissively, I shift so I can kick him in the back.

"You can leave any fuckin' time, shinigami. I've finished with you."

Akon looks at me over his shoulder, a sluggish smirk on his face. "You may be the 'fuck 'em and leave 'em' type, Grimmjow, but I'm not. Mainly because I'm too tired after the fucking to do the leaving."

With that he stands up and grabs my bed sheet, using it to wipe between his ass and down the backs of his legs. My upper lip curls in disgust but I don't stop him, because the material already has his come on it from when he shot his load. Adding mine to it doesn't make much of a difference.

"Lazy bastard. Fuck off to your own division. You can drain the rest of my come from your ass and give it to your captain."

Akon ignores me and sits down, tossing the sheet over me before he lays back. I scowl at him but I know it's half-assed, because I can't muster any real strength (or hate) after what we just did.

"A nice idea, but I think he already has a sample of your come."

That wakes me up a little, and I narrow my eyes to slits as I stare at the shinigami lying beside me. "Say what?"

Dark eyes turn my way. They must always look that black, I guess. Or maybe it's just the lighting; or maybe he just hasn't come down yet. Either way, I like looking at those eyes, along with those horns. His appearance is so alien and unlike the other shinigami I've seen.

It makes me feel at home.

"I know they did tests on you," he tells me, the corner of his mouth curling faintly. "Did you fuck Nemu and the other one the way you fucked me?"

My brows furrow and I stare at Akon with hard, dangerous eyes, while a menacing grin starts to take form. "You jealous?"

"You're the type to get jealous, not me. I'm just curious."

The horned shinigami chuckles, and I just grunt. I reach back to link my fingers together, then rest my head in my palms. My skin is starting to cool down, and the sheet he threw on me is draped over my thighs. It sticks to my skin and the blue curls at the base of my dick are peeking out, but the rest of my meat is hidden. Akon's, on the other hand, is hanging there freely, softened contentedly against his leg. I stare at it and my fingers itch, wanting to grab hold of him and stroke and tug and manipulate in any way I can.

Instead I just shift around to get more comfortable and reach down to scratch at a spot near my hollow hole.

"I don't fuckin' get it. Why do you put up with the shit over there? That place is a fucking mental house."

"You mean the Twelfth?" Akon mumbles, glancing at me. "I consider that mental house home. I've been there for a long time. I like what I do."

"You like being a lab rat to your own fucking captain?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow. I stare at the other man disbelievingly and he just shrugs his shoulders.

"I've known Kurotsuchi-taichou since I was just a kid. I like to think that I know him better than a lot of other people here in Soul Society. I was aggravated at first, I'll admit. But since then I've had time to think about things. This is the Twelfth, and these are the things we do. We're researchers, and we couldn't call ourselves that if we didn't do what we had to to research things."

Grimacing, I stare at Akon for a long moment without saying anything. There's silence between us until he turns his head to look at me.

"So you don't give a shit at all? He can see everything you do, and you really couldn't give a fuck?"

The horned shinigami stays quiet, and then he smirks sharply, chuckling. "Well, he's already seen me masturbate. Seeing me fuck won't be much different. Besides, I was looking at the mattress for most of it."

I laugh in spite of myself. I don't really know what to think about it now that I've fucked Akon. I don't know what to think now that I'm lying here, having a conversation with him. Somehow just talking to him feels more intimate than having my cock up his ass. I was fine with the idea of fucking him even if his captain could see; proud of it, even. I was proud to take Akon and show that yellow-toothed fucker that his shinigami was _mine_; that I'd fuck him whenever I wanted and that I didn't give a shit who saw us. But now I'm not sure how I feel. I'm not even sure of what I should say when Akon's captain can see me. Can he hear us too? Is he in on this conversation, listening to every word?

After a minute I just snort, then roll on my side. I give Akon my back and pull the sheets up to cover myself.

"Enough bullshit. Pillow talk's for bitches. I'm fuckin' tired, so shut up or get out."

Akon chuckles huskily, and I feel the mattress dip as he shifts around. A part of me wants to roll back over and curl against him instead. A part of me wants to put my head in his hand and force him to scratch my scalp like he did earlier. But I don't do any of that; I just close my eyes and will myself to fall asleep. That plan is interrupted the next time he opens his mouth.

"Does it bother you?"

Cracking my eyes open, I stare at the wall sluggishly. "Dipshit. Why the fuck would I fuck you if it did? I thought I told you to shut up or get out?"

I really don't want to think about it right now. I'm tired from exerting myself, and I don't wanna do anything but fucking sleep. I'm supposed to be floating in the afterglow, or whatever, not thinking about the fucked up situation that we're in. Normally I'd be raging and plotting all their deaths, but for the first time in a long while I'd rather forget about it, at least long enough to rest.

I'll think about it later, when the sex's worn off. I'll think about it later and contemplate what else I'm gonna do to get them back.

"I can leave if you want me to."

Akon makes me groan, aggravation building inside me. I sit up on my elbow and turn my head to glare at him. "Are you fuckin' deaf?! I don't like repeating myself! If you can't shut your fucking mouth I'll shut it for you with my fist down your throat! Then I'll throw you out on your sore ass!"

The horned shinigami just stares at me calmly, a mocking twist to his mouth. "You're giving me a warning before you lose your shit and actually do it? That's new."

I growl low in my throat, but Akon just keeps on smirking like he doesn't have a fucking care in the world. He reaches for me and I feel his fingers threading through my hair. I can't think of anything to say or do, so I just frown and give him a disinterested look. He tugs on my hair a little to pull me closer, and I go because, like I've said a hundred times, I'm too fuckin' tired for any of this. Besides, having him scratch my scalp ain't so bad. I like it and I'm content to lay my head on his chest and let him do it. If he wants to rub my head who the fuck am I to stop him?

Not that I'll ever let him know that.

* * *

_Grimmjow blowing air through his nose throughout the fic is a play on a large cat vocalization known as Prusten, or "chuffing." I first saw this behavior between tigers and human trainers on Animal Planet, and here is a definition of Prusten courtesy of wikipedia: It is a low-frequency equivalent to the purring found in domesticated cats. The animal's mouth is closed and it blows through the nostrils, producing a breathy snort. This sound is non-threatening and often used when two big cats encounter each other on neutral territory, or __between courting pairs__. 8DDD _


	9. Chapter 9

The water is warm against my aching body, sliding in rivulets over torn and battered flesh. I tip my head back and close my eyes, offering my face to the showerhead above me. The pressure is harsh but not unwelcome, relief soaking through my pores. I already cleaned the dried blood and come from my body, even took the time to wash my hair, which is something I rarely do. Now I'm content to just stand here, pelted with wet heat.

When I woke up earlier Grimmjow hadn't been in his room. I was tangled alone in the sheets of his futon, but I hadn't been surprised to find him gone. Instead I just closed my eyes and tried to melt further into the mattress, inhaling deeply and smelling the scent of our sex. There'd been an underlying trace of the Sexta's own aroma, curling beneath heavy trails of sweat and dried come. I liked it enough that I was tempted to lay there all day and just breathe, drawing on his smell the way that I draw on my cigarettes. But I knew that I still had work to do that couldn't be ignored, so eventually I dragged my ass out of his bed to get dressed.

The ache in my backside had been immediate, and even now it persists. That had been another thing I wasn't surprised by, because it'd been awhile since I'd been fucked so roughly. Not that I was complaining, far from it. I could easily grit my teeth against the painful aftermath, so long as I had the memory of that immense pleasure, and a feeling that there was plenty more where it'd come from.

I had pulled my uniform on carefully, then took my time bending over to dig the pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the pocket of my lab coat. I left the ruined article of clothing in his room before leaving, leisurely noticing that the hallways were quieter than usual. On my way past Kira Izuru's office I stole a glimpse inside, only to find it empty. It made me curious, and I had to wonder if the blond captain being gone had anything to do with the blue-haired Arrancar. I briefly considered asking one of the other members of Third, but decided against it while making my way out. I figured that I'd find out eventually, and I still wanted to keep my interest in Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez to a minimum while in public.

So here I am now, back in my own division and washing away the events of last night. Naturally, the Twelfth has showers for its members, in case one of us should get some deadly substance on us that needs to be washed off immediately. I also like to keep extra uniforms here for that reason; either because my clothes were destroyed during the aforementioned situation, or simply to change because they got soiled with someone's body fluids.

Rubbing the warm water over my body one final time, I exhale slowly before reaching out to turn the dial. The small, tiled room goes quiet without the sound of pattering droplets. I grab a towel to dry myself off, working it over my hair roughly and stepping into the next room. I grab the fresh uniform that I left sitting on a bench and start pulling it on, still cautious of the pain that comes with any movement that's too swift. The sigh from my mouth is something between annoyance and sluggish acceptance. When I'm finally fully dressed, and with a new, unsullied lab coat, I stick a cigarette in my mouth and head outside into one of the laboratories.

Kurotsuchi-taichou is there, like I thought he'd be. He doesn't do anything to acknowledge my presence, his attention on a large column that stretches from floor to ceiling. The green fluid that fills it glows faintly in the dimly lit room. I approach the older scientist unhurriedly, watching him beneath lowered lids as I light the white stick between my lips. There is a figure floating inside the jar, its skin stained a murky gray from the liquid that it's immersed in. One of the other Arrancar he'd brought back from Hueco Mundo, though this specimen had already been dead on arrival.

Leaning against a steel lab table, I exhale smoke through my nose and watch as my captain's long fingers move over a keypad positioned in front of the vessel. He still hasn't done anything to indicate that he's even noticed me, and my mind wanders in the silence stretching between us. Since waking up I've thought off and on about how my captain may react to what's happened in the past twenty-four hours. Of course I've considered that he might punish me for letting Grimmjow know about that surveillance bacteria.

I tilt my head slightly as I continue watching the other man, taking another long drag of my cigarette and, glancing around slowly for an ashtray. When I don't see one anywhere in sight, I turn my gaze to my captain's back, then tap my cigarette as discreetly as I can, hoping that he won't notice the ash on the floor.

There's an even longer, drawn-out silence as I look from the painted scientist to the Arrancar inside the jar. Its eyes are closed and it's naked, with endless incisions stitched along its body. They look like roads drawn on a map, detailing every inch of my captain's journey as he studied the creature from the inside out. The Arrancar's hollow hole is centered in the middle of its chest, and staring through it makes me think of Grimmjow. Tracing the curves of that crevice with my eyes, I think of tracing the Sexta's hole with my fingers.

I also think that it could be _him _in that jar, dead and desecrated.

Ashing my cigarette for a second time, I stare at my captain's back. "How long do you want to keep going with the study?" I ask him outright, returning the cancer stick to my mouth so I can suck on the end of it. Kurotsuchi-taichou stays quiet for a lengthy moment, his stark-white fingers still flying over the keypad.

"For as long as I'm interested," he finally states, in his unconcerned drawl. I don't say anything in response and simply stare, waiting for him to add more as I roll the cigarette between my teeth. The rhythmic tick that his fingers create suddenly ceases, and then the man is looking over his shoulder with a toothy smile.

"And the Espada is very interesting."

I quirk a hairless brow and feel torn between a faint frown, and a dryly amused smirk. My mouth decides for me, curling at the corner before my brain's caught up with the action. I'm not exactly sure why I should be smirking over my captain's attentiveness to the man I'm fucking. I guess because for the moment it's fairly innocent, and I say that because I know that Kurotsuchi Mayuri is capable of far worse than keeping visual tabs on the former Espada.

Not to mention the fact that it doesn't look like he wants to penalize me for letting Grimmjow know.

"Why do you think that?" I question after a minute, feeling the paper burn close to my fingers as I suck more nicotine down my throat. Kurotsuchi-taichou pivots and heads straight for me, his golden eyes unblinking, sharp gaze burrowing into my own. That kind of penetrating scrutiny from a man such as himself would have most shinigami shaking in their waraji; but I just tilt my head slightly, inquisitive.

"Take that off," he orders, unyielding eyes never leaving my face. My brows arch faintly, but I simply nod and put my cigarette on the table, before pulling my lab coat over my head. I drape it over the table and then grip the edge of my shihakushou, waiting for more instructions. My captain merely stares at me, his expression unchanging. I take that to mean he wants me to continue, so I pull my kosode and shitagi apart, freeing my arms from the sleeves and letting the material fall around my waist.

With my torso bared to him, I ready myself for the inevitable inspection. His cold hand grabs hold of my arm to pull me closer, and his other hand goes to my jaw, gripping it firmly as he tilts my head up. I let my eyes go to the ceiling and feel the heat of his gaze on my neck, no doubt cataloging the various bruises. Then he lets go of both my chin and arm, and I feel the press of his fingers against the scratches along my ribs. His touch is chilly but surprisingly soft, almost _chalky _from the paint he uses, dried to feel like baby powder. The lab itself is already cold enough, and that coupled with his invasive study of my naked torso has my hair rising, skin prickling with barely noticeable bumps. His hand curls around my waist and pushes roughly, forcing me to turn around. I grip the edge of the metal lab table, holding onto it lazily while his fingers skim over my back.

"It wishes to test me, when _it _is the testee."

That followed by a jeering chortle, the sound of it unpleasant, and for obvious reasons. My captain thinks that Grimmjow is challenging him and he's amused by it. A very threatening sign if there ever was one.

"He'd gloat over anything," I mumble, attempting to diffuse the scientist's dangerous enjoyment as nonchalantly as possible. I'm vaguely aware of him pulling at the ties that hold my hakama in place, loosening them so he can tug the black apparel down. I tap my finger against the table quietly, using it as a distraction from the probing around the crack of my ass.

"And you seem to enjoy it," Kurotsuchi-taichou replies, his cold finger passing over my entrance. He wants to assess the damage Grimmjow did in that area, that much is apparent. I turn my head slowly to see him over my shoulder, meeting a narrowed gaze and disturbing grin. "What did I tell you about developing emotional attachments to _test subjects_?" he asks, while shoving what feels like two fingers deep inside of me. My knees want to buckle under the abrupt intrusion, nails biting into the underside of the table as I try to keep myself steady. I exhale a strained breath, then widen my arms and shift my hips in an attempt to get used to it.

"I've always been honest with you,Taichou. I've known you too long to lie - effectively." I add the last word with some humor, looking at the older man again, my lashes lowered. His eyes narrow even farther and his grin turns to a sternly drawn line. I just smirk faintly, gaze languid.

"He's more your test subject than mine. It started as a study for me, and now it's straightforward fucking."

My captain sneers at me, "tsk"ing in a way that sounds like a hiss. He twists his hand and crooks his fingers, sending a jab of pain racing up my spine. I grunt throatily and lean against the table, vision gone a little hazy.

"Disgusting, Akon. Disgusting! What pathetic swine, to think that I actually expected better from you. _He_, you say? _It _is nothing more than a lowly half-breed. Its only value is dissection."

"That isn't true, he's also good for fucking," I manage, with a wheeze of a laugh. "And you know that he's _male_, Taichou. He has all the parts to prove it."

The older scientist makes another revolted sound, extracting his fingers and wiping them on my back. He pushes me around so I'm facing him, yellow eyes incredibly hard. I brave his cross stare and rectify my hakama, uncaring of the fact that he never said he was done with his examination. But even as I secure the ties once more, I leave the top half of my uniform undone.

"Why are you doing this, Mayuri-sama?" I ask him seriously, using a more intimate way of addressing him. Normally I go with the simplest "Kurotsuchi-taicho" - because I can't be bothered with anything else - but in moments like this I like to call him by "Mayuri-sama." It's my way of saying that it's just me and him; that I want things to be honest and personal. His unkind stare becomes lazy and void beneath drooping lids, painted lips drawn over yellow teeth in a grimace.

"You said that he's only good for dissection? If that's what you really think then why are you watching him? You already got a look at his insides, the scars on his body are a testament to that."

Brows furrowing indistinctly, I stare into his golden eyes with growing curiosity.

"You're studying his _behavior_, Taichou. You're interested in the things he does. This is a psychological study to you, now, not just a biological one."

"You've only now just realized that?" Eyes blazing, my captain continues between gritted teeth. "You ought to _cut out your tongue_so as not to embarrass yourself further."

His hand shoots out incredibly fast, grabbing me by the throat and yanking me forward. I stagger a little and out of reflex I reach out, gripping his upper arm to catch my balance. The fingers of his other hand rest under my chin, and his thumb presses against my mouth, prying my lips apart. I taste his skin as he pushes past my teeth, the pad of his thumb coarse and its flavor bitter with traces of what's around the lab. His fingers dig into my throat as he pulls my tongue from my mouth, stretching it to a point that it starts to hurt.

"The Arrancar distracts you this well? I have no use for scientists who let themselves be so easily sidetracked, Akon."

My eyes narrow faintly, but I don't make any attempt to dislodge myself from my captain's grasp. A smile starts to creep over his face, and I feel the long nail of his middle finger scrapping along the underside of my tongue.

"Of course I'm studying its behavior, you wretched fool."

The last word is spat at me, the man's golden eyes ablaze with sinister intent as he grins madly.

"If I'm to understand every facet of the Arrancar, I cannot limit myself to their physiology alone. I must dissect their thinking as well, the way that they process things mentality."

His nail is unrelenting, and I really think that he's prepared to pierce the wet muscle and rip it out. But then he lets go and shoves me back, into the lab table so it scrapes across the floor with a grating sound. I just swallow to work moisture into my dry mouth, moving my tongue around my teeth to remind myself that it's still intact.

"If it wasn't for my 'distraction' you wouldn't be able to study him at all, Taichou," I tell him, holding his attention with a level gaze. "It's my interest in him that gives you a frontrow seat to everything he does. So, the thing you're so disapproving of is really your golden ticket."

The withering look of his face should be enough to kill me where I stand, like the poison of his zanpakutou. Thankfully it isn't, and I busy myself with putting my arms through the sleeves of my shihakushou, then readjusting the folds. "I don't mean any disrespect, Mayuri-sama. Just know that whatever 'attraction' I have for Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez won't get in the way of my work. I'll perform at my best and deliver whatever you need. You don't have to worry about that."

The older man is quiet for a long moment, simply staring at me with those unnerving eyes. The paint on his face and the elaborate headgear shield him like a mask, and it's times like this that drive me crazy with ambiguity. For as long as we've known each other he's never told me anything of his life before the Maggot's Nest. Sometimes I want to take a wet cloth and rub it over his stitched skin, to peel away all the white and black; to strip him bare before looking into his eyes and asking him for his story.

"Worry? I'm not familiar with the term," he mutters, upper lip arched derisively over yellow teeth. "If I find something displeasing I dispose of it. Make yourself an annoyance, Akon, and you'll be the one I gut and bottle next."

With an empty look in his eyes he turns, arms hanging by his sides as he walks away. I watch the slump of his shoulders under the weight of his head, silently contemplating what it is I should say. Shadows spring forth lethargically as he nears the doorway, trying to swallow his waning form. Before he's out of my sight completely I sigh under my breath, then mumble my assent loud enough for him to hear.

"Hai, Taichou."

* * *

I want to make an active example of the promise I made to him. The lab that I'm working in is deathly quiet, save for the muffled sound of water that bubbles sluggishly. I'm standing over a naked female gigai, staring down at her lifeless face as I thread gloved fingers between her lips. Normally I'd be sitting for a task as simple as this, but as of right now my ass is still too sore. I feel over each individual tooth slowly, then pry her jaw open so I can touch the underside of her molars. I can't remember who ordered this particular gigai, but that isn't important. The only thing I need to concern myself with is completing the final tests before sending it off. I've done this hundreds of times, and it's become such a deeply ingrained routine that I could do it in my sleep.

When I'm through examining her teeth I trace my fingers over her slim face and crack her eyelids open. The irises have rolled back, unresponsive but clear. Once I've finished with the physical inspection I can put some soul candy inside her, to make sure that her muscles are in working order.

"I really don't know how you do this all day."

Glancing up, my eyes dart to my left, searching for that unexpected voice. I'm surprised to see the ninth division captain walking towards me, a look of discomfort written on his face as he eyes the naked gigai lying on the table.

"It looks too much like a corpse," Hisagi mumbles, crossing bare arms over a white clad chest. I just smirk faintly and reach for her forearm, lifting it into the air and moving her wrist so her hand bobs.

"You think so? A very clean corpse, if you ask me. No cuts; no bruises; no anything. How'd she die? Let's come up with a story for her."

The other man's dark eyes are fixated on the gigai's limp hand, a barely there grimace twisting his mouth. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye and laughs tightly.

"That's so morbid, Akon."

"You're the one who brought it up."

Lowering her arm back to the table, I lean against its metal edge and pull my gloves off slowly. "I'm surprised that you're here, Hisagi. You never visit the Twelfth."

The scarred captain nods minutely, the fingers of his right hand scratching near his left elbow. He looks a little unsure, or maybe it's plain uneasiness. His spares the gigai one more glimpse, before meeting my gaze with his own.

"I've been waiting for you for half an hour, so I decided to come find you."

My brow arching, I toss my gloves in the trash and wipe my hands over my lab coat. "Waiting? I didn't know you were expecting me."

"I came by earlier today. You weren't here but your captain... I told him to let you know that I'd be waiting for you in my office."

I stare at the other man for a moment, expressionless. Then the corner of my mouth is curling as I laugh. "You didn't believe him, did you?"

Hisagi heaves a sigh, smiling just barely. He runs a hand through his dark hair and his eyes droop so they're nearly shut. "Not really. But I'd rather not argue with someone like Kurotsuchi-taichou, and I'd rather not wander around the _Twelfth_. So I just accepted it and left."

"It's really not so bad here, you know."

"Maybe to a scientist such as yourself."

I notice that the ninth division captain goes back to crossing his arms, signaling that he's serious about not liking it here. I really can't blame him, not many people outside of our division are comfortable inside the dark laboratories of the Twelfth. Tilting my head slightly, I move so I'm standing between him and the lab table, blocking his view of the gigai as I lean back with my hands gripping the cold metal.

"Why did you want to see me, Hisagi?"

The other man shrugs his shoulders easily, looking into my eyes with a soft, weary smile. "To talk. They took the Arrancar this morning to remove the reiatsu limiter. Did you know that?"

At those unexpected words my eyes widen a fraction, hairless brow knit. "You're kidding me."

"No," Hisagi says, shaking his head. "He's really lucky that Ukitake-san is the new Soutaichou. If Yamamoto were still here. . ."

"He'd have been thrown into the Maggot's Nest," I finish, cocking an eyebrow. The scarred shinigami nods his agreement, looking up at me with his slanted eyes and faintly furrowed brows.

"Do you think it's wise, Akon? You seem to know him well."

Arching my brow again, I reach into my pocket for a cigarette. "You want to know if I think it's safe to nix the collar?" Hisagi just nods. I stick the smoke in my mouth and purse my lips, thinking to myself quietly as I light the end.

"I can't say. I guess we'll know when we do - or don't - find dead shinigami scattered everywhere."

"Akon."

I glance at the smaller man's unamused face, taking the time to pull a deep drag. Then I pinch the cigarette between my fingers and remove it, smirking at Hisagi while I exhale, blowing a silver plume of smoke in his direction. "You're so serious all the time, Hisagi." Pointing at him with the two fingers securing my cancer stick, I lean closer. "You need a drink."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the bar with me tonight, actually."

Staring at Hisagi, I pause in bringing the cigarette back to my mouth. "You want me to go drinking with you?"

The tattooed shinigami nods, the corner of his mouth quirking in what looks like droll amusement. "I don't know how to ask you any plainer."

I'm about to respond when I notice something moving in the open doorway. I glance past Hisagi's dark-haired head, spying my captain as he advances. His steps are swift and vulturine, golden eyes practically glowing as he stares at the ninth's back. He looks like a crazed ghoul gliding towards us, and Hisagi must realize that something is up by the direction of my gaze, because he suddenly turns his head to see over his shoulder. When he finds my captain standing directly behind him - with mere inches keeping them apart - he mutters a short (and faintly startled) "Shit."

"Hisagi Shuuhei," Kurotsuchi greets, his mouth curling to form a slow grin. "Twice in one day. Exactly what are you up to with _my _researcher?"

The scarred captain steps sideways, repositioning himself so he's facing both of us while we face each other. The movement looked calm and fluid, but I've known him long enough to sense the disquiet coiling inside of him. He folds his arms behind his back, one hand gripping the opposite wrist.

"I've had to come twice because he never showed. You didn't tell him that I'd be waiting for him like you said you would, Kurotsuchi-taichou."

Golden eyes are baleful as my eccentric captain steps closer to Hisagi, closing the distance that the younger man tried to gain. "Oh? Is that what you said earlier? I wouldn't recognize anything from your mouth unless they were screams of pain and terror."

I watch behind the filter of smoke from my cigarette, intent on their intimate exchange. Hisagi appears to be as rapt as I feel, staring fixedly at my captain, his jaw tense. His sloe-eyed gaze starts to drift towards me, then darts back when a long, dark fingernail raps just below his maimed eye.

"How is this working after all these years, Hisagi Shuuhei? It has to be problematic in a battle. We could fix that for you."

"It's functioning just fine."

The younger of the two steps away quickly, moving around my captain and striding for the door. His white haori billows around him, and he pauses just long enough to send me a look over his shoulder. "Are we on?"

I smile faintly and nod.

"Good. You know where to find me."

Hisagi offers one final smile, the gesture not touching his eyes completely. Then he disappears around the corner, leaving me alone with my captain. I glance at the older man, who is looking to the spot where Hisagi just stood.

"You really shouldn't say those kinds of things to him," I mumble, tapping my cigarette a few times over the trash can.

"Hisagi Shuuhei seems like a very private man."

Turning his unsettling gaze on me, he smiles menacingly. "How do you think he'd feel if he knew that someone he considered to be a 'friend' could record his every word?"

My mouth twitches, and Kurotsuchi-taichou's wide eyes narrow to threatening slits. "You won't tell him like you told the Espada."

The older man doesn't say anything else as he leaves, and I frown around my cigarette, glancing at the naked gigai while thinking of what my captain just said.

* * *

By the time I finish with the gigai and alert its requester by way of Hell Butterfly, night has fallen. I put everything away and clean the tables down, then switch the lights off and leave. Outside the air is surprisingly warm, a leisurely breeze wafting over Seireitei. There's still a good number of shinigami trailing the streets, and lights illuminate the buildings. I head for a bar that Hisagi and I have frequented throughout the years, located in a middle-class district near the Thirteenth. The building is two stories high with a wraparound porch on the uppermost level, paper lamps that glow a vibrant red dotting the overhang. The scarred captain is waiting for me outside like I expected, arms crossed lazily over his slim chest. When he sees me he smiles softly and waves me over. I crush my cigarette on the cobblestone pavement, then follow him as we enter the bar.

It's noisy inside, and busy. For me there's too many people in one place, but thankfully Hisagi secured us a private room. It's towards the back of the building, away from the main area and occupying a hallway that looks to have many other private rooms. He slides the shouji open and enters first, then shuts the screen door once I've followed him inside. The room is a decent size with saffron walls and dark tatami mats. The low table is also dark, lacquered black and with two cream colored pillows on either side. There's a bottle of sake and two bowls waiting for us, and I wonder briefly if it's been sitting there long.

Hisagi sits down easily enough, pushing his haori behind him and crossing his long legs. I try my hardest to position myself opposite him without it looking like I'm having difficulty. I must not get away with it, because the other man watches me more intently than usual, his scarred brow arching faintly. I just smirk at him wryly and settle on the pillow, crossing my legs loosely. He shakes his head with a soft smile, eyes downcast as he pours us both some sake.

"I thought that you might sleep with him."

Cocking an eyebrow, I take the cup he offers me. "Is that why you wanted to talk to me, Hisagi?"

The smaller man just shrugs his shoulders softly, looking at me as he takes a sip of his sake. "No, not necessarily. I just. . . I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week."

"What about?"

"The Arrancar."

Placing his cup on the polished tabletop, he holds the rim with just his fingertips, turning it in a slow circle with eyes downcast. I watch him in silence, drinking from my own bowl of sake as I wait for him to continue.

"I want to request a transfer to my division."

Eyes narrowed faintly, I set my cup down and lean forward on my elbows. I lace my fingers together underneath my jaw, and study the other man's face. He glances up and his expression is naturally unreadable, even if he doesn't mean it to be. He takes another sip of his sake, and his tongue skims his lower lip to collect a drop that escaped.

"But he's with the Third."

"That's why I want the transfer."

I furrow my brows a little, still staring at Hisagi as I reach for the sake bottle so I can refill his cup. "What's wrong with the Third?"

The scarred captain doesn't answer me right away, his dark irises at the corner of his eyes. He looks calm sitting there, a quiet force, like the still waters of a lake. But I'm not easily fooled, and I know from personal experience that beneath his seemingly composed surface, Hisagi Shuuhei is anything but stagnant.

"There's nothing wrong with the Third, it just isn't the right division for someone like Jaegerjaquez."

"I'll be straight with you, Hisagi. I don't know why you would care. Have you ever talked to him?"

"In passing when I visit Kira," he answers smoothly. Another drink, and it reminds me that I have my own cup of sake that's being ignored. But I'm more interested in what he's telling me, because I have a feeling that there's a lot more to this than he's letting on.

"The ideal place for someone like him would be the Eleventh. I've told Kira this but he insists that Jaegerjaquez is overqualified for a position there because their highest seats are occupied." Running a hand through his hair, Hisagi sighs softly and looks me in the eye. "I agree with him, even if I don't want to."

"I still don't understand why you want him moved. He's doing fine where he is right now. And I also don't understand why you're telling _me_."

The other shinigami chuckles quietly, eyes downcast again as he leans against the table on his forearms, the sake cup poised between both hands. "I'm not sure why I'm telling you either. You're easy to talk to?" Here he pauses, glancing up and smiling softly. "You also know the Espada better than I do. I guess I thought you could tell me about him, let me know if I'm right for wanting to do this, or out of my fucking mind."

"How sentimental," I comment, smirking with sarcastic humor. Hisagi just snorts softly, knocking the table with his knuckles.

"Stop, I'm being serious."

"Of course you are, you were born serious, Hisagi Shuuhei."

The ninth division captain stares at me and smiles faintly, but the look in his eyes suggests that he's tired of fucking around. I just exhale and reach for my sake cup, bringing it to my mouth for a drink. "If you're asking me if I think you can _handle _him. . ."

Trailing off, I make a face and suck air through my teeth. And to my mild surprise the scarred shinigami actually _laughs_; a genuine, heartfelt laugh that I've rarely heard since the ryoka invasion. "Fuck off. That isn't what I'm asking; I know I can handle him. What I'm curious about is this: do you think he's still an enemy of Soul Society?"

I tilt my head a little and look down at my sake bowl, reaching for the bottle so I can pour myself another drink. "Honestly? I don't know, Shuuhei. I'd like to say that he isn't, but I'm not inside his head. I can't be sure of how he thinks, or how he feels. I don't know if he's willing to align himself with us, or if he still plans on butchering shinigami whenever it suits his mood. Maybe you should ask him yourself? He likes things point-blank, and you'd probably gain his respect if you were upfront with him. But If you really plan on going through with this, you should know that you have to be _firm_. He likes to break rules and push the limits, so if you aren't at the top of your game he'll walk all over you."

"You don't have to warn me, I've already prepared myself for the inevitable headache."

Glancing up, I reach across the table for the other man's cup so I can fill it for him. I go silent as my mind computes the conversation that we're having. I question why the tattooed shinigami is _really _doing this, and then I imagine Grimmjow sitting in Hisagi's office, or trailing the scarred man during hollow missions. My thoughts eventually lead me to what Kurotsuchi-taichou told me earlier, and I frown to myself faintly. I realize that I shouldn't have come here, that I should have found a way to get out of it. Hisagi Shuuhei is talking to me in confidence, and he has no idea that the surveillance bacteria violates that. I feel like I'm lying to him somehow, and that doesn't sit well with me. There are very few people in my life that I care for, but the scarred man across from me is one of them. I want to tell him what's going on, but recalling my captain's last order stays my tongue, keeping it at the edge of my teeth.

"What's wrong, Akon?"

I remain silent and hand the sake bowl to Hisagi, feeling the brush of his calloused fingers against my own when he accepts it. The corner of my mouth curls faintly, and I shrug my shoulders while mumbling, "You'd understand if I said nothing."

Indistinct emotion ignites within his dark eyes, what looks to be mild suspicion and then. . .realization. He doesn't say anything as he takes a drink, but he looks away and his brows furrow minutely. It would seem to me that he's thinking about something deeply -_ contemplating_. I'm waiting for him to excuse himself now that he knows something isn't quite right, or if not to excuse himself, then to ask _me _to leave. But instead he just sets his cup down, his sloe-eyed gaze snaring mine.

"I'd like it if you came out with me more. You're always cooped up in those damned laboratories."

"You're one to talk," I counter, chuckling. "You're always cooped up in that damned office."

"At least my office isn't teeming with inanimate bodies and stitched corpses."

"Touché."

Hisagi smirks softly, looking pleased with himself. Strands of dark black fall over his eyes as he tilts his head and pours himself more sake. His hair has gotten longer since the war, and paired with the white of his haori, it's like looking at a throwback to his academy days. I look at the three scars and remember when he'd gotten them, and then I look at the sixty-nine tattoo and remember when he'd gotten that too.

"Don't get any ideas if Jaegerjaquez _is _transferred to your division," I tell the other shinigami, my mouth quirking. "I know you have a thing for men with crazy smiles and rough exteriors."

Pausing in his next drink, Hisagi's slim fingers tighten around the cup in his hand. He stares at me with slightly wide eyes, his expression blank, looking as if I caught him off guard. I can't allow him any time to recover, so I look at his tattoo pointedly. Then I arch a questioning brow, before meeting his gaze once more.

"When are you going to do something about that?"

The smaller man is quiet for longer than I expected. He stares at me for a moment - inexpressive - then shuts his eyes and tips his head back, downing what's left of his sake. When he's drained the cup of its contents he sets it on the table, exhaling quietly before he offers me a soft, reserved smile.

"I know where he is, and he knows where I am."

I take it that the twist of his mouth is meant to be untroubled, but his eyes are distant, and the tone of his voice is uncharacteristically detached. I simply stare at him and feel the beginnings of a frown, but before I can question him further there's a loud bang outside our shouji. Both of us look in that direction, and through the rice paper screen I see two shadows moving. Another bump against the door, followed by a familiar voice.

"Aba- You're going to break something, get out of the way."

The shouji flies open abruptly, and the first thing I see is a large body with striking hair. My eyes go to the man's chest, his uniform open farther than it should be, a strong contrast between tanned flesh and ink-black tattoos. He stares into the room dumbly, looking from Hisagi, to me, and back again. With his sight trained on the scarred shinigami he grins broadly, clutching a bottle of sake as he throws his arm into the air.

"Hisagi-senpai! See Kira, I told ya that senpai was gonna be here. Didn't wanna believe me, but there he is _right there_."

I can't help snorting a little, taking a drink to wash down a laugh. Even if the red-haired shinigami wasn't waving around a sake bottle, it'd be safe to assume that he's had too much to drink. There's a faint flush on his face, a light sheen of sweat on his skin, and all-in-all he looks pretty damn lively. I've seen him before with Hisagi, but I can't remember his name for the life of me.

As for that familiar voice I heard, the boisterous shinigami already announced it. The blond's head appears around the other man's arm, his expression bland and just a little annoyed.

"Yes, Abarai-kun. It looks like you were right about something - for once," Kira comments, while giving his companion a good shove. The tattooed redhead stumbles over the step that leads into our room, but he's still all smiles as he saunters over. He plops down on the pillow beside Hisagi, setting his sake on the table and unfurling his fingers around two cups. Kira Izuru, on the other hand, wears his usual somber look, brows stern despite the redness of his pale cheeks. He hangs in the doorway with his hand on the shouji, but he hasn't yet closed it.

"I hope we aren't disrupting anything?" he asks, sparing Hisagi and I a slow glance. I look to the scarred shinigami across from me, whose dark gaze is currently focused on the redhead beside him.

"No, we were just talking. Sit down, Kira-san."

The blond nods, sliding the screen door shut behind him. He walks over and sits down beside me, pushing his haori back so it fans across the floor behind him. I can't see his face at this new angle, because his flaxen bang is blocking my view. But I do see his equally pale hands resting on the table, then extending forward to grab the cup that Abarai hands him.

"The Espada isn't with you," Hisagi states, staring at the third division captain. Even though Kira's face is hidden from me, I can imagine his small smile in this moment.

"No he isn't, how observant of you."

The darker of the two just frowns softly, his eyelids lowered as if to conceal something. "Shouldn't you be with him now that the reiatsu limiter is gone? He's capable of anything."

"I can't babysit him forever, Hisagi-san. I stayed with him the first few hours and he seemed to be adjusting perfectly fine. I'm sure he'll be all right on his own."

"Or maybe he was just waiting for the right opportunity, and now that he's alone he'll have one."

Kira just sighs softly, the sake cup at his mouth as he takes an exaggerated drink. My eyes start to wander towards Hisagi, but their attention is stolen by Abarai, who's watching me with slits for eyes. I cock my hairless brow, staring back at him with dry curiosity.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is the type of man that performs poorly under supervision. If I followed his every move he'd feel restricted. He would think that I'm trying to control him, and he hates the very idea of being controlled by anyone. So naturally he would lash out, yes? I've decided to give him some room to roam, Hisagi-san. It will keep things from taking a violent turn."

Setting his bowl on the varnished tabletop, Kira tilts his head to the side. His long, angular fringe falls across his shoulder, and he looks at me with pale blue eyes, smiling softly. "You'd agree wouldn't you, Akon?"

Now I have three sets of eyes on me, and I look from one to the other unhurriedly, then shrug my shoulders and down the rest of my sake. "Sure." The blond shinigami smiles more, but the seemingly warm gesture stops short of his eyes.

"Besides, I think Jaegerjaquez has found reason to behave himself."

That glacial stare of his refuses to let me go, wet with alcohol and something else I can't put my finger on. The pale man sips at his sake again, and with the cup hiding his mouth his expression assumes an entirely new sentiment. I can feel my naked brows starting to furrow, eyes narrowing. I wouldn't be surprised if Kira Izuru knew about Grimmjow and I, because he'd seen us go into the Arrancar's room the day before. And for all I know he'd come to Grimmjow's room this morning and caught us in bed together. I don't care if the blond is aware of our fucking, but the way he's looking at me is grating on my nerves.

Maybe. . . Could it be that _Kira _is the reason Hisagi wants to move the former Espada? I glance at the dark-haired captain, and his face is grave as he watches the blond beside me.

"Hey, you're that gigai guy from the Twelfth, ain'chya?"

Abarai's voice tears me away from the two captains, and I turn my attention to him as he leans over the table. One of his tattooed brows is cocked high on his tanned forehead, eyes pinched and full lips moist with sake. He squints at my forehead, mouth falling open as his nose scrunches.

"How'd you get those things on your head?"

If I had yen for every time someone asked me that throughout the years. Inevitably, the redhead's question takes me back a couple of weeks; to the time that Grimmjow demanded to know the same exact thing. I can't stop thinking of the blue-haired Espada after everything that's been said in this room, and I'm itching to go find him. Not only do I want to make sure that he hasn't gotten himself killed (or someone else killed), I want to feel him with his spiritual pressure unleashed.

"The members of the Twelfth like to modify themselves," I inform Abarai, smirking at him lazily as I start to stand up. I grit my teeth against a wince, having forgotten about the pain in my backside. The man's eyes are all over me as I straighten to my full height, from the horns on my forehead down to my. . .crotch. His glossy-eyed and rosy-cheeked face is undoubtedly contemplative, especially when he cocks his head to the side and squints.

"If you're considering an enhancement for your lower region, Abarai-kun, I'm sure that the Twelfth can arrange something."

The redhead balks and slams his cup down, splashing sake over his hand and onto the table. "The fuck you talkin' about, like hell I am! I don't need any kinda enhancement!"

"Then what _are _you considering?"

"I'm considerin' other people who'd do it!"

". . .why would you consider such a thing. . .?"

"J. . .jus' shuddup!"

Rolling my eyes faintly, I ignore the bickering shinigami and look down at Hisagi Shuuhei. His dark eyes lock with mine, and he smiles softly while raising his sake cup to me. I'm tempted to lean down and put my arm around him; to say something to him even if I don't know what; to pull him away from the other two and take him back to my place. Then I could ask him the things I didn't get to ask before Abarai and Kira interrupted us.

But I don't do any of that, because the red-haired shinigami leans into Hisagi suddenly, their shoulders bumping. He stares at the smaller man with narrowed eyes, then jabs a finger at Hisagi's slim chest.

"Taichou's been askin' after you, senpai. And jus' what the hell for?! 'cause you two ain't _never _talk before."

I watch with mild amusement as a barely there blush stains Hisagi's face. He looks a little taken aback by the other man's question, mumbling something under his breath that I don't catch. I'm suddenly curious, tilting my head slightly as I stare, letting my mind deviate from previous thoughts. Yet another thing to ask the scarred captain the next time I see him.

"If you're off to find Jaegerjaquez, make sure he doesn't get himself into any serious trouble, will you?"

Turning my head, I glance at the blond shinigami beside me. He pushes the thick strand of hair aside with two fingers, a small smile on his face. But there's that strange look in his eye again, like molten lava bubbling beneath a heavy sheet of ice.

"If you don't want him getting into trouble, maybe _you _should watch him, Kira," I inform him, my tone indifferent. "He's your subordinate, after all."

I smirk at him coldly, and the gesture warms with satisfaction when I see a flash of agitation in his polar gaze. I don't wait for him to respond, tucking my hands inside the pockets of my lab coat as I stride past him. I can hear Abarai's loud voice booming behind me, along with Hisagi's quieter tones as I slide the shouji open. I also feel Kira's restrained scowl on my back, making me chuckle before I shut the door on him.

* * *

This time when I make it outside the atmosphere is chilly. I hold my arms close to my body for warmth, my lips hugging a lit cigarette. The burning paper glows brightly in the dark, orange-red like the chain of lanterns running parallel to each other down the street. It's just the right kind of weather for snow, and I look to the sky, expecting to see white flakes raining down. The black expanse above is overrun with moody clouds that smother a shining moon, effectively blocking its light. The further I get from the bar the less busy it becomes, and after stomping my cigarette out beneath my waraji I leap up, onto the roof of a lonely looking building. I couldn't see any lights on inside, and I don't know if its inhabitants are asleep or if it has any at all.

Standing on the tile, my hands still held securely within my pockets, I look out over Seireitei. I let my reiatsu simmer faintly, eyes surveying the city. I'm not up for searching high and low, so I figure that I'll advertise my position and let the Arrancar come to me. If he doesn't then it's his loss, but I've a strong feeling in my gut that he won't be able to ignore me.

It doesn't take long, which brings a faint smirk to my lips. I sense him coming at me from behind, but I don't turn around. He comes to such an abrupt halt behind me that it sends a gust of wind rushing forward, my uniform thrashing with the force of it. I'm about to face him when suddenly, my vision goes black. My heart throbs hard once, adrenaline surging through me immediately. I'm still fully conscious even if I can't see, and I realize that he hasn't done anything but put something over my head. I can smell the muskiness of its fabric; feel its coarse fibers against my face.

Panic hasn't hit me yet, and I doubt that it will. I can't remember the last time I experienced panic, and though I'm unsure of what Grimmjow is up to, I'm not scared of him in the least. I do however want to know what the fuck is going on, so I open my mouth to ask him.

"What-"

A strong hand slaps against my mouth, while a muscular arm curls around my throat in an unforgiving headlock. The former Espada pulls me tight against him, his hold strong enough to bruise my neck. I'm already suffocating with the sack around my head, the fabric restricting my airflow; I don't need his hand covering my mouth or his arm trying to crush my windpipe.

But then I hear his growl close to my ear, muffled and softer than it's ever sounded. He removes his hand slowly, sliding it down my chest and over my abdomen. The arm encircling my throat loosens, and his fingers curl around my shoulder, bunching my uniform. I shudder at the feel of his front pressed against my back, closing my eyes and wetting my lips. I'm breathing harder than I was a moment ago, either in an attempt to suck more air through the sack, because I'm uncertain, or because I'm aroused.

I decide that it's all three of them at once.

Grimmjow doesn't say anything as he holds me in a death grip, but I do feel his nose against the nape of my neck. The tip of it is cold but his breath is warm, and when he exhales gruffly, snorting air against my chilled skin, a shiver runs all the way from my scalp down to my toes. It instantly evokes memories of last night, and I remember thinking that the way he'd snort against me was the weirdest (and most interesting) thing that anyone's ever done. I don't know what he means by it but I want to, and the possibilities have all the blood in my body going south.

And if it wasn't rushing there already, the feel of something _wet _would have helped it along the way. That something brushes the spot where his nose just was, rubbing roughly over my nape. It's his _tongue _and fuck if it doesn't twist my gut. . . I bite my own tongue to hold back a groan, tipping my head forward to give him more room. Warm lips touch down, and then sharp teeth prick my skin. Grimmjow chuckles throatily, the feel of his grin against my overheating flesh all the more intense than actually seeing it.

Then suddenly he lets me go, the blistering heat of his body leaving mine. He grips the back of my uniform in both hands, pulling on the fabric as he leaps off the roof and drags me with him.


	10. Chapter 10

It's safe to assume that Grimmjow has regained the use of sonído, if the speed at which we're flying over the rooftops of Seireitei is anything to go by. I can feel his reiatsu throbbing with unrestrained power and heat, flexing around me tightly. When the busy sounds of the city gradually fade away, replaced by nothing more than the whipping wind around us, I really start to wonder where the ex-Espada is taking me.

The chill night air from outside suddenly ceases, dimming to a contained warmth indicative of the indoors. I'm shoved against what I assume to be a wall, and Grimmjow pins me there with his large body. His arms are curled around my waist, gripping the white fabric of my lab coat as he yanks on it. He growls throatily and I feel the cool press of his nose against the crook of my neck (underneath the sack that is still around my head), where he inhales loudly before exhaling in a heavy rush over my skin. I shudder and buck my hips to his, taking the initiative to reach up and yank the bag off my head.

The room we're in would be pitch black, if it wasn't for the open window that admits a steady stream of moonlight. I survey our surroundings quickly, from the one window, to the walls, to the wooden floor. The room is so barren (minus a lonely futon shoved in the far corner, which is laughably convenient), that I have to wonder if he's taken me to an abandoned building.

The Sexta's hands grope my thighs shamelessly, and I toss the sack away as I lean my head back, my lips parting when his teeth scrape my jugular. He grinds between my legs with wild fervor, groaning deeply and licking a broad swipe from the hollow between my collarbone to my Adam's apple. Chuckling, I reach between our bodies blindly to undo the ties of his hakama.

"Looks like someone's in heat."

"_Fuck you_," the Arrancar snarls, snapping his teeth at my throat like he wants to rip it out. I just smirk with wry amusement, and leave his obi undone as I reach out to fondle his hollow hole.

"That certainly seems to be your intention right now."

Grimmjow groans hotly against my skin, his breath becoming short, muggy puffs of air. Hips jerking, the blue-haired Sexta bucks against me harshly, grinding our erections together between the fabric of our hakamas. The insistent push of his hips and the rough slide of material on my cock makes me groan, and I sweep my hand around the hole in his abdomen, palming it audaciously. I start fingering the edges when Grimmjow's head jerks up from beneath my chin, his skull knocking against my jaw.

I curse halfheartedly and tip my head back, letting it thump against the wall. The ex-Espada makes a raspy sound that's somewhere between a moan and a snarl, as he swings his arms out to grab both of my wrists. He slams my arms against the wall, and holds me open like that as he rocks his hips with enough force that I'm pretty much just along for the ride. I groan raggedly as I arch off the wall, and he slowly starts to lift his head so his face isn't hidden by a tangled mess of blue hair. It's the first time I've actually _looked _at him since last night, and I immediately notice his throat, looking almost _provocative _now that the reiatsu limiter is gone. If his pupils weren't blown so impossibly wide, and if he wasn't staring at me with such fervent intent that it was downright carnal and possessed, I might have had the mind to miss that red collar.

Smirking, Grimmjow suddenly knocks his forehead against mine. I feel the puncture instantly, and like a needle sticks in a patient's flesh, I feel my horns stick into his. If the Arrancar notices he doesn't let on, sliding his rough hands over mine to thread our calloused fingers together. A rumble sounds in his chest, so deep and throaty that I'd almost call it a _purr_; and then he's snorts a breath of air against my mouth. I groan faintly, my eyes heavy with a hammering arousal as I watch him pull away. Sure enough there are three trails of blood leaking from tiny pinpricks on his forehead. The blue-haired Arrancar grins at me manically, his scowling brows framing a set of sinister eyes. His tongue darts out to taste a drop of blood that collects on his upper lip.

That's enough for me, and I growl dangerously low as I jerk my arms free. I press my hands against the wall and push forward, using the momentum to carry him with me, my legs around his waist. The Sexta's eyes widen and I pull my legs back, then kick him in the chest with enough force to send him flying back. He crashes into the opposite wall, splinters the wood, and as I stalk towards him I take the time to glance out the window. Second floor, with a veranda, and surrounded by a street of dimly lit buildings. This is probably a district of Rukongai. I wouldn't put it past Grimmjow to wander around outside of Seireitei given half the chance. Smirking, I gather my lab coat around my chest and whip it over my head. The Sexta's raspy snarl from the other side of the room draws my attention back to him. I glance in his direction, toss a blur of white fabric to the side, then smirk insipidly and jerk my robes apart.

"Hope you brought some lube."

The tattooed Sexta sneers, managing to glare threateningly and grin sardonically at the same time. "Fuck no. Tonight you're gonna suck it up an' take it raw."

"Who said you're doing the fucking?" I counter, cocking my hairless brow challengingly as I pull my arms free of my uniform. Grimmjow's blue-eyed gaze scans my bare torso, and he licks his teeth as his nostrils flare. He throws his shoulders back and starts wiggling free of his modified shihakushou.

"_I _said, dumbass. When'd you start goin' deaf?"

"Just the other night, apparently."

The ex-Espada sneers at me again, and throws his jacket away as he stalks towards me. His hakama is hanging low on his hips from when I undid his obi, and with a few calculated steps and quick maneuvers of his hands, he steps out of it completely. Like the night that I found him marking my wall, he isn't wearing any fundoshi. His cock is standing hard and flushed against his muscular abs, a string of precome at the head catching the light of the moon. I smirk at him lazily and reach for him when he reaches for me, catching him by the arm and swinging us around. He doesn't stumble, but I've gained enough momentum to push him where I want him: bent over the open window.

"You _fucker_," he growls venomously, tearing his arm from my grasp. He tries to push back but I'm already there, and all he succeeds in doing is grinding his bare ass into my awaiting crotch. My mouth turns sharply at the corner as I grab a fistful of hair, leaning over him as I yank his head back.

"That's the idea. Don't waste my time with your protests, Grimmjow. The way you sat in my lap the other night tells me that you've taken cock before, and that you've _liked _it. So quit the act and enjoy my dick rammed up your ass."

Smirking against the shell of his ear, I tighten my fingers in his hair while grinding my concealed erection into his ass. The man below me is panting, and his eyes are focused on something in the distance as he leans over the windowsill. It's just high enough, and with a flat, broad ledge that can support our combined weight. The ex-Espada licks his lips sloppily and suddenly turns his gaze, staring at me from the corner of his eye as he grins darkly. "You wanna do the fucking 'cause I fucked you too hard last time, huh? You're too sore to take another round, ain'chya? Fuckin' pussy."

I smirk at him and reach down, between our bodies so I can loosen my hakama. "The reason doesn't matter. I'm still getting your ass tonight whether you like it or not." Those words get a scowl from Grimmjow, and he lurches violently underneath me, attempting to buck me off. I rasp a throaty chuckle as I force him against the windowsill with my weight.

When I yank his head back for the second time, he hisses through clenched teeth and _shudders_.

"I'm stronger than you thought and it's _turning you on_. Am I right?" I mutter huskily, licking behind his ear. Another quiver rattles the body below me, and the Sexta snarls, sounding as if he'd started to groan and forced into something harsher at the last second. A low, harsh chuckle escapes me, and I concentrate my reiatsu over him, using it to press and weigh him down. He's really starting to pant now, and his hands grip the rim of the windowsill as I rake both hands through his hair and rock against him. Dragging my nails over his scalp, I flatten my tongue against the topmost knob of his spine and lick up, tasting the salty sweat of his nape. This time the blue-haired Arrancar can't hold back a raspy, wanton moan, and I grin with pointed satisfaction when his hips arch.

I'm aggressive with my spiritual pressure as I lean back slowly, and I can feel his snapping back just as forcefully to tangle with mine. I said earlier that I wanted to feel his reiatsu unleashed, and I'm not disappointed with the blistering, violent heat of it. It's almost suffocating as it surrounds me, stifling (and blanketing) like the scorching air of a desert. I smooth my hands over his flanks and groan faintly as I move down, nipping sharply at the skin of his back. I follow the curve of his spine to the dip of his waist with my tongue, and languidly, I watch his head as I move my hands over his hips to spread his backside.

When I run my tongue over the crack of his ass in a single broad swipe, the ex-Espada curses loudly and lurches forward like he's trying to get away.

"What the fuck are you doin'?!" he shouts, holding onto the windowsill as he twists around to glare at me over his shoulder.

"What does it look like?" I mutter, deadpan. "You said 'fuck no' to having lube, and I don't want a snag on my cock from your dry ass." Gaze flicking away from his face, I eye his puckered hole contemplatively while spreading him wider.

"That's fucking disgusting," Grimmjow sneers, sounding genuinely sickened. I glance at him again, and smirk at the anger in his icy blue eyes as I reach between his legs. I gather the beading precome at the head of his cock, smearing it over my fingers, then place them over his entrance and rub slowly. The Sexta's hips twitch, his eyes pinching around the corners and his brows furrowing. I tip my head back a little and stare at his ass as I tease the hole with the tip of my finger, breaching the rim only slightly.

"Since when do you object to _anything_, Grimmjow?" I challenge, quirking my brow. "I would have thought that you'd like a little tongue action back here. I've seen plenty of pussies with their heads between their legs, feet in the air."

The Arrancar stares at me wide-eyed like I might be the dumbest fuck he's ever encountered, his upper lip curled. I laugh at him roughly, my gaze flat as I poke my tongue between my teeth. Grimmjow narrows his eyes at the sliver of wet, pink muscle, before jerking his head away and scowling at the buildings across the street.

"Hurry up, disphit! Any longer and I'll pound a hole through ya with my dick!"

Chuckling, I smooth my hands over his thighs and hips, pausing so I can smack one tightly flexed cheek. Grimmjow hisses nastily and sends me a quick, threatening glare, but I just smirk at him sharply, spreading him again and leaning forward. I lick over his entrance leisurely, tasting the remnants of the come that I spread there. My eyes droop and I tease him with the curved tip of my tongue, feeling his muscles jump and tremble in my hands. He's panting raggedly above me, his voice snagging hoarsely in his throat.

The sound of him has my skin throbbing with heat, and my hardened cock aching between my legs insistently, craving my attention. I keep it waiting as I reach around his taut thigh to grab hold of his leaking erection. I work him with slow, confident strokes as I wriggle my tongue inside of him, and he all but collapses against the window as he groans loudly. I smirk faintly as his hips start to move, rocking into the tunnel of my hand and, subsequently, against my mouth. The milky fluid that leaks from his cock makes the slide easier, and I can feel him starting to relax around my tongue. I tease the slick muscle inside of him, and reach up with my free hand to touch above the crack of his ass. I find the end of his spine, where his tailbone is, and scratch over it with firm, blunt fingernails.

Grimmjow's sharp hiss morphs into something of a raspy _mewl_, his ass arching high. I grin smugly, and give his cock one final tug before pulling away to stand up. I step out of my hakama and fundoshi completely, kicking them away, then nudge his legs farther apart with my foot. Reaching down to grip heated flesh, I give myself a few quick, firm strokes, forcing more precome from my cock so I can slick the shaft. Then, bracing myself with my right hand against the window, I put my other hand through his hollow hole. I curl my fingers around the rim, brushing the skin of his muscular abs, using that grip to hold him still as I position myself at his entrance.

"Remind me to take you drinking next time so you're loose," I mutter, while easing the head of my cock past the first ring of muscle. "I won't have to waste my time prepping you."

"Shut up and fuck it," Grimmjow spits out immediately, his tone a hoarse snarl. I can see his fingers digging into the windowsill as he shoves his hips back, trying to force me in faster. I smirk crookedly and buck my hips, forcing myself halfway and pausing for a few heartbeats, before I sheathe myself completely. The Sexta heaves a curse and surges forward, his back undulating with the violent immensity of his breathing. I watch him with calculating eyes as I remain relatively still. He's stretched around my cock, and I can feel his muscles spasm, clutching me in a death grip as they adjust to my intrusion. I smooth a hand over his thigh and breathe through my nose, trying to resist the urge to fuck him unconscious. Just the thought alone makes me growl softly, and I roll my hips, unable to hold back.

Quaking with shudders, he hangs his head, and seems to be holding his breath until he can trust that the sounds he'll make are guttural groans instead of pained hisses. I rub my hands over his thighs and grab his hips, pulling him tighter against me to encourage him. I start thrusting in earnest, skin that's slick with sweat smacking against his loudly. Grimmjow growls hoarsely and the muscles of his back move with a life of their own as he writhes, his head falling down before snapping back. He repositions his arms for better leverage, and squares his feet as he starts slamming his hips back to meet mine.

Now that he's working with me, I'm free to use my hands for things other than leading him to my cock. Staring down at the blue-haired Arrancar heatedly, I smooth my hand up his sweat-slick back. I grip a handful of blue hair between my fingers, using it as leverage as my hushed panting accelerates and I propel myself forward. I drive into Grimmjow vehemently, nailing him to the wall, groaning throatily at the feel of his tight ass all but swallowing my cock.

With every backstroke he seems to suck me back in, taking me hungrily like he's aching for more. The feeling is mutual, as I can't seem to get enough of slamming into him. I thrust my hips savagely and groan, leaning down to catch the skin of his nape between my teeth. I worry his sweaty flesh harshly, tasting sweet saline on my tongue, feeling the throb in my dick when he snarls and reaches back to fist my hair. He yanks on the short strands like he wants to uproot them, and consequently tugs my torso closer to his. He bucks under me wildly, with a range of different sounds emanating from his throat: snarled hisses; beastly groans; rasping _whines_.

I reach around his hip to grab him, squeezing from base to tip. I work him avidly, smearing his come over his throbbing cock and rubbing my thumb in the slit. His body starts to jerk in quick succession and I know he's getting close. I curl my other arm around his waist to hold him against me as the tremors intensify. He seizes and snaps tight, his head snapping back so fast that it collides with my cheekbone. I feel his cock pulse in my hand, and then he's spilling his seed in heavy streams against the wall as he roars his completion the same way he did the other night. His voice is deep, loud and _wild_, and I'm dimly aware of the fact that if anyone in this neighborhood heard him, they'd probably think that a hollow had gotten into Soul Society. Technically, a hollow _has _gotten into Soul Society, but it may not be the kind of hollow that they'd envision.

Still panting, I push him flat against the windowsill with my hand on his back, gripping the wall with the other. I'm relentless and violent as I keep pounding into him, reaching for my own orgasm. A minute or two of merciless fucking, and then I'm slamming into him for the last time as I come. My body thrums violently with my climax, and I hang my head as I pant shallowly, trying to catch my breath. After a long moment in which I'm too weak to move, I manage to pull away sluggishly, letting my spent cock slip from Grimmjow's ass. I tilt sideways to lean my shoulder against the wall, and I watch the ex-Espada with eyes that are barely open. He seems to be having as much difficulty breathing as I am, his back heaving. He places his hands flat against the windowsill and starts to push himself up, and before I can get out of the way he's twisting around, catching the side of my face with his elbow. My head snaps sideways with the blunt force of his blow, and I'm in the process of spitting blood from my mouth when Grimmjow fists a handful of my hair and seals his lips to mine in a bruising kiss.

As his tongue maps the inside of my mouth, I don't know whether he's forgotten or simply doesn't care that just a while ago, I had my tongue shoved up his ass.

* * *

Eventually, we manage to wear each other out. But not before we maneuvered ourselves over to the futon, where his foot tangled with my ankle to set me off balance. I fell back and knocked my head on the wall, and he barked a harsh, mocking laugh until I kicked his legs out from under him. I spent a good twenty minutes trying to wrestle him into submission, and by the time I got him to calm down we were both almost too worn out to continue. But with his naked body sprawled on the futon (eyes closed, _panting_, and his legs hanging open enticingly), I felt myself getting painfully hard. I settled my weight between his legs, smirking lazily when he cracked an eye open to scowl at me. The muscular thighs that I'd been admiring for a while cradled my hips, and the raw power I felt in those legs was enough to make me ache with need. He didn't resist when I held his calf and bent his leg towards his chest, turning my head to lick, suck, and bite at the flesh of his inner thigh as I entered him for the second time.

It wasn't until the third round, when he had me pinned against wall, that I noticed something interesting (besides the fact that he had a surprising amount of stamina when it came to my cock and _his _ass). The ex-Esapda sat in my lap with his legs spread wide, rocking his hips up and down, his hands splayed on either side of my head. He held his arms like he was constructing some sort of living cage, encasing me with the would-be enclosure of his body. He didn't have to, because he had my attention with or without the oppressive effort. What really caught my eye, however, was his intense stare the entire time we fucked. His eyes glowed with arrogant satisfaction, his brows furrowed menacingly, and his mouth cracked a grin every time he wrung a groan out of me.

I made a mental note to ask him (later, when I wasn't so out-of-my-fucking-mind with pleasure), how he figured out that Kurotsuchi-taichou had put the surveillance bacteria inside of him as well.

My third orgasm came and went, and I when I didn't even bother with a quick smoke I knew that I'd _really _been spent. But the blue-haired Sexta be damned, I was half-asleep when I realized that he'd climbed on top of me again. I woke up to a dull, hazy awareness, only to find Grimmjow sprawled between my legs, his arms around my waist. His fingers dug into my back, snagging like the hooks of a cat's claws. He was sucking me down, and I arched automatically into the wet heat of his mouth - until I realized that his rough tongue was a little too much on such a sensitive area, especially after what I'd already been through. I had to grit my teeth against the sensation, and I ran my fingers through his hair to pull him off, only to have him go dangerously still and growl like an animal whose food bowl was being confiscated. I arched my brow (muzzily), and contemplated the fact that my cock was actually being _held hostage_. It might have been flattering for some, but because my hostage taker was a former Espada with a sandpaper tongue and violent disposition, it was more threatening than it was arousing. I couldn't think of many positives when it came to having my dick trapped inside the deadly mouth of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, besides the simple fact that the wet, snug warmth of it was admittedly "cozy" around my cock - when it was _still_, that is.

Exhaling sleepily, I held the silken strands of his blue hair between my fingers, and calmly said: "Your tongue- it's like sandpaper. You'll sand my skin off."

He simply stared at me beneath furrowed brows. For a moment he was motionless, and then he leaned over me more and bobbed his head. He was surprisingly lazy about it at first, and the pool of saliva that collected in his mouth made the slide of his tongue slick, effectively debunking my previous thoughts of it being too uncomfortable. I managed to relax steadily, and eventually I was arching my back in ecstasy as I cupped the back of his neck, simply holding onto him as he did whatever he wanted. The Arrancar sucked hungrily, and the vibrations of his groans around my cock had me in a fit of shudders until I peaked. Grimmjow sucked my come from me and pulled off with a "pop," tilting his head back as he swallowed. He wiped a trail of glistening white from his chin with the back of his hand, then leaned down to make sure he had licked me clean.

I wasn't surprised by his greedy display. Grimmjow was the type that wanted everything for himself, and I didn't expect any gracious "snowballing" (or so Hisagi had told me it was called in the Living World). I also wasn't surprised by the narrow-eyed scowl I received when I laughed at him huskily, and said with tired (but frank) amusement that he hadn't missed a single drop. Once that was over with, he finally settled at the opposite end of the futon and curled into a ball. I watched the rise and fall of his back regulate to something resembling sleep, and once he was out for good I was able to doze off for a little bit.

Now I'm sitting on the futon with my back against the wall, and I've put on my fundoshi and hakama. My torso is still bare, as are my feet, and I got up a while ago to retrieve my lab coat from the floor. I pull my pack of cigarettes and the silver lighter from the pocket, sticking one of the white cylinders between my lips before I light the end. I give the cigarette a few quick sucks to get the paper burning, and then I take a long drag.

As I give the room a closer inspection than I did earlier, I realize that this building may not be as abandoned as I initially thought. Someone might actually be living here, and it brings a wry smirk to my mouth. I have no idea if Grimmjow is familiar with this building, or if he brought us here randomly. Either way, there's nothing to do about it now. We've already "christened" the place, so to speak, and the blue-haired Arrancar is currently out cold. Whether or not someone owns this room, I'm content to sit here for a while and enjoy my post coital smoke.

Outside, it looks like the night sky is starting to wane. There's colorful light bleeding on the horizon. The air is still crisp with lingering twilight, and at the edge of my vision I notice Grimmjow draw in on himself, tightening his fetal position. I flick some cigarette ash onto the wooden floor as I study his naked form, eyeing the scarred, prickling flesh of his back. After a moment's consideration, I secure my smoke between my teeth and move closer. Inching my way across the futon (carefully, so I don't rouse him), I steady myself behind him and reach out, touching my fingertips to his bicep lightly. I pull a little, trying to get him to turn onto his back, but he's damn near impossible to move and only winds himself tighter. With a dry smirk, I inhale smoke and exhale leisurely, blowing a silver plume into the air above him. A few seconds go by in silence, until Grimmjow gives a twitch and snorts in his sleep, sounding as if he's trying to clear his nose of a sudden obstruction.

I chuckle under my breath, and stick my arms through my lab coat. I roll the white material into a bunched loop around my wrists, then stretch my arms and maneuver them over Grimmjow's head. Gradually, I start to ease the article of clothing over his hair, and once I've gotten it around his neck I manage to slip my hand underneath him. I lift him slowly, and cautiously, so I can pull the lab coat down his shoulder. I don't bother trying to pry his arms apart so I can put them through the sleeves, as tightly coiled as he is. I settle for pulling the white fabric down his lean frame, pausing whenever he shifts around and grunts in his sleep.

When I finally have the majority of his naked body covered (my coat bunches around the hip resting against the futon, but I succeed in covering him to his knee on the other side), I sit against the wall and continue my smoking. Tipping my head back I close my eyes, licking around the rim of my cigarette. On an idle whim I reach up to touch one of my horns, and I notice that a crust has formed on its normally smooth surface.

Dried blood from earlier, I realize.

When Grimmjow had knocked our foreheads together and pierced his skin.

* * *

It isn't until dawn that they finally show up. I'm on my third or fourth cigarette, and Grimmjow's back is tucked against my leg. He gradually shifted closer to me in his sleep - instinctively searching for more heat, I'm sure - and in the process my lab coat became even more twisted around his body. I'm faintly amused, but unconcerned of the fact that his ass is thoroughly exposed when they knock on the door. I don't say anything and they wait for no longer than a heartbeat before sliding the shouji open. I glance in their direction and see Kira Izuru standing in the doorway, with Hisagi behind him. The latter is turned away as he converses quietly with a young woman. She looks into the room and cries out in shock, before clasping her hands over her mouth. Her eyes are wide as she stares, and then she screws them shut as if realizing what she's doing, before scurrying behind the ninth division captain.

"Did you know that this is someone's property?" the blond questions, his tone quiet and calm. I glance at Kira lazily, and smirk as I tap my cigarette with my finger.

"I do now."

The pale shinigami frowns at me slightly, his brows knit together in their usual scowl. He steals a quick glance of the blue-haired Espada who is still napping by my side, and the way he eyes Grimmjow's exposed skin doesn't go unnoticed by me. I grin slowly, a little sharp around the edges, before reaching down to give that ass an admiring pat. Kira looks away quickly, his eyes narrowing on my face as a tinge of color stains his cheeks.

"I didn't think that I'd have to tell you not to do shit like this," Hisagi suddenly says, leaning into the room. His bare arms are crossed over his chest, and his sloe-eyed gaze surveys the room quickly. Assessing the damage Grimmjow and I have done, I assume.

"What can I say? What's done is done," I mutter indifferently, flicking ash onto the floor and sucking down the contents of my cigarette. The scarred captain looks at me, and frowns faintly as he straightens back up.

"You know, Akon, when people hear things crashing into walls and all kinds of. . .shouting, they're naturally scared shitless thinking of what it could possibly be."

Tilting my head slightly, I try to see the girl standing behind Hisagi. "Is that what brought you here, or did you track our reiatsu?"

"Neither," Kira answers, his hand resting idly on the zanpakutou at his hip. "All we had to do was follow the tracking device inside Jaegerjaquez."

That instantly rouses the man lying next to me, but I have a feeling he's been awake for most of the exchange anyway. He rolls backwards, half leaning over my leg, and glares over his shoulder beneath a messy nest of blue hair.

"Fuckers!" he growls at them loudly, his tone harsh but at the same time muted by the drowsiness of his voice. Sitting up, he bares his teeth at the two captains. "What fuckin' 'tracking device'?"

"Did you really think that we'd let you wander around freely without us being able to track your movements?" Kira counters coolly.

"THAT ISN'T '_FREELY_' THEN, IS IT?!" Grimmjow roars, suddenly wide awake. His eyes spark with fiery anger, and the three of us stare at him with varying degrees of blandness. I notice that both Kira and Hisagi spy the three wounds on Grimmjow's forehead, but neither of them say anything about it.

After a moment of silently observing the Sexta's rage, I narrow my eyes at the blond shinigami. "If that's true, what took you so long to show up?"

The man stares at me, his golden hair and icy eye luminous against the stream of sunlight shining through the window. I wait for his response, but instead of answering me he looks at Grimmjow, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

"Since when did you become a member of the Twelfth's research team, Jaegerjaquez?"

Grimmjow blinks, and scowls at Kira frigidly before looking down. When he sees my lab coat draped over his torso haphazardly, he snarls and yanks the apparently _repellent_clothing over his head. "Stupid fuck," he snaps, gathering the white material into an angry ball and tossing it in my face. I chuckle and tilt my head sideways so the coat doesn't catch on my cigarette. The former Espada disregards me (the same as my coat) and comes to a fluid, graceful stand. He squares his shoulders and tips his head back, flashing Hisagi and Kira one of his arrogant grins as he steps over my legs and strides towards them.

"Could you put your uniform on?" the third division captain asks, that barely there flush ghosting over his cheeks for a second time. If his brows weren't already perpetually furrowed, I imagine he'd use them to frown at Grimmjow at this moment. "There are people here who don't need to see you like that."

"Are you fuckin' nuts?" Grimmjow scoffs. "Any of you would be _so fuckin' lucky_." He knocks shoulders with the blond shinigami as he pushes past him, practically on the prowl. A hushed voice mutters nervously behind Hisagi, and the dark-haired captain tilts his head back to listen. It seems to dawn on Grimmjow that Kira was referring to the girl, and his face lights up with menacing intent as he stalks closer. "What's she hidin' for? Ain't she ever seen a hollow? Hey, woman. You've got an all right place. Maybe next time I'll drag _you _in here for a little fun."

The sound of rushed footfalls thunders along the veranda outside the room, signalling that she's run away in a panic. The blue-haired Arrancar barks a laugh, then stops abruptly when Hisagi's hand shoots out, smacking against the Sexta's bare chest to keep him from leaving the room. That captain's normally neutral eyes have become dangerously hard, and he stares at Grimmjow sternly.

"That's enough. Put your fucking clothes on, Jaegerjaquez. We're taking you back to Seireitei."

Sighing to myself softly, I push my back against the wall as I stand up. I listen to their conversation calmly as I walk around the room, gathering our scattered uniforms.

"Fuck you, asshole," Grimmjow growls viciously, smacking Hisagi's arm away. "I'm not goin' anywhere I don't wanna go."

"If you don't come willingly we'll have to force you."

As I straighten up slowly from bending over to get the Sexta's hakama, I turn my gaze to observe the other three men. Kira is watching me from the corner of his eye, but I know that he's acutely aware of both Hisagi and Grimmjow, who, at the moment, are staring each other down. I approach them unhurriedly, and once I'm within arm's reach Grimmjow yanks the hakama from my hand. He snarls at Hisagi and spits at the man's feet before storming outside.

"That'll be the fuckin' day! You'd have to drag my fuckin' corpse before I'd go anywhere '_willingly_' with you fuckheads!" I hear him shout. The scarred shinigami steps outside and looks in the direction that Grimmjow went.

"If you refuse to follow simple protocol, especially when you're in the position that you're in, then we will!" he warns, his brows furrowed faintly, alluding to a combination of aggravation and concern. I'm halfway out the door myself when Kira suddenly intercepts me, a soft smile on his face as he takes Grimmjow's tabi and waraji from my hands. I arch a hairless brow, unimpressed by his seemingly gentle expression, but he doesn't seem to notice. I narrow my eyes at his back as he walks over to the blue-haired Arrancar, who is standing at the opposite end of the veranda as he pulls on his hakama. I'm surprised that Grimmjow is still here at all.

"He's impossible," Hisagi comments under his breath as I stand beside him. I shrug into my shitagi and kosode, letting them hang open as I smirk and flick my spent cigarette over the railing.

"Impossibly flexible."

The smaller man makes a face that's there and gone within a span of two seconds. He stares at the former Espada and the captain of the Third, his eyes unblinking and slightly unfocused, looking as if he's thinking of something that's miles away from this moment.

"I can't believe you broke into someone's home. Do you realize how that makes Seireitei look? I would've thought that you'd. . . I don't know, _ground _him, somehow. Set a few boundaries. He doesn't have any self-control, and that makes him dangerous. You need to be the responsible one and keep him in check so he doesn't run amok."

I laugh hoarsely, the sound sharp and cutting. Pulling my lab coat over my head, I yank it down quickly and look at the scarred shinigami. "Did you find the tobacco I've been experimenting on? Because I don't know what the fuck you've been smoking, Hisagi, but I've never been the 'responsible one' when it comes to having a good time."

Glancing at me, the dark-haired captain doesn't even humor me with a smile. "You should rethink that attitude. They may have removed the reiatsu limiter, but he's still under tight surveillance right now. Any more wrong moves and Ukitake-san will be forced to quarantine him to keep Seireitei and Rukongai safe. I don't want it to be that way, but he used to be an enemy of Soul Society, Akon. He can't be trusted yet, and he's not making a good impression by disappearing from his division and breaking into a civilian's home."

I shove my hands into my pockets, tilt my head back, and roll my eyes sluggishly. "So a few people got scared when they heard us fucking. He didn't hurt anyone, did he? I'll pay for the damages to her room and we can leave it at that."

Hisagi is quiet for a long moment, and once I've realized that he's waiting for me to look at him, I do. He's staring at me with a strangely thoughtful expression, a little smirk curling the corner of his mouth. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're trying to sweep this under the rug by taking the fall for him."

I make a dismissive sound, my eyes drooping disinterestedly. "If I were taking the fall, I'd say that it was my idea to break into this place and fuck on every available surface. This doesn't have to be bigger than it really is. That's all."

"Kira says they're gonna throw me in the Maggot's Nest if I don't shape up."

At the sound of that brusque voice, I redirect my gaze. Grimmjow is fully dressed by now, and his hands are inside the pockets of his hakama as he grins with a lazy self-satisfaction. "From what I've heard, the place don't sound s' bad. It'd be better than being stuck out here with you fuckheads." He narrows his eyes at Hisagi pointedly, but his harsh brow softens slightly as he scans the man's three scars and sixty-nine tattoo.

"Well, the two of you would have more in common if that's the path you chose," Kira comments as he joins the three of us. His captain's haori looks heavy on his shoulders, and his arms hang by his side as he looks me over casually.

Leaning back against the railing, the Sexta crosses his arms and squints at Kira. "Huh?"

"Over a century ago, Akon used to be a prisoner with Kurotsuchi-taichou. They were bailed out by Urahara Kisuke to help him establish what is now the Twelfth Division's Research and Development Institute."

"You're shittin' me." Blue eyes swivel, and Grimmjow gives me a skeptical once-over. "You used to be a fuckin' prisoner?"

I stare at Kira for a long, emotionless moment. The man simply smiles softly, and I think about using his mouth for an ashtray the next time I light up. My eyes snap away with irritation, but when I see the blue-haired Arrancar looking at me like a predator with dinner in sight, I find myself smirking faintly. I shrug my shoulders and put a smoke between my lips. "It happens to the best of us."

Grimmjow grins, and pushes himself off the railing so he can stride towards me. I can see the burgeoning heat in his eyes, and his reiatsu is starting to swell, thrumming with rapidly escalating intensity. I arch my hairless brow with dry curiosity, lighting my cigarette like I can't be bothered. Grimmjow growls throatily and his eyes hood.

"Do you think that's a mating call?" I hear murmured to the right of me, followed by soft laughter. I flash Hisagi a sinister smirk and flick ash at his pristine haori.

"Who can say with these two. Anyway, I do think that they've done enough damage for one night. Hisagi-san, why don't you take Jaegerjaquez for a drink? You can tell him a story about the tattoo he's been eyeing."

The darker of the two furrows his brows slightly, giving Kira a dubious look. The blond just nods his head faintly, and Grimmjow jerks around to glare at them both. "I told you dipshits that I'm not goin' anywhere I don't wanna go." Pausing, he glances at Hisagi with cold hostility and does exactly what Kira said: he eyes the shinigami's sixty-nine tattoo.

"I'm escorting Akon back to the Twelfth, so if you'd like to revisit their laboratories, you're welcome to join us."

"Wait," I interject, before the blue-haired Sexta can bite back with a nasty retort. "I must have heard you wrong, because you couldn't have possibly suggested that I need a _chaperon_."

"Not at all," Kira says, reaching up to push his blunt bang aside offhandedly. "I have things to discuss with Kurotsuchi-taichou, so you might as well accompany me on your way back."

"Things to discuss," I parrot tonelessly, starting at the blue-eyed captain with dull, unblinking eyes. I suck on my cigarette slowly, and immediately I have a gnawing feeling in my gut, telling me that this is more than just "having things to discuss." Narrowing my eyes faintly, I exhale smoke through my nose and flick the white cylinder at Kira's feet. He glances down at the offending object, a look of distaste twisting his mouth minutely.

"All right. Let's go."

"Are you shittin' me?"

"No," I mutter, shooting Grimmjow a pointed look. He jerks his head back aggressively as he narrows his eyes, and the reiatsu that I felt swirling around me makes a hasty retreat. I wouldn't say that it's the retreat of something scolded; more like the retreat of a wild animal that's fighting the domestication of a human's campfire. My harsh expression softens - somewhat - and the Arrancar's upper lip twitches. He snarls spitefully, and gives me his middle finger with all the gusto of aiming a cero at my head. He doesn't say another word as he turns around and disappears from sight. The ninth division captain spares Kira and I a quick glance, then curses and shunpos away, no doubt in pursuit of the former Espada.

Now that Grimmjow and Hisagi are gone, and I'm alone with the pale, flaxen-haired Kira Izuru, my expression dulls. I regard him coolly, and as I prepare myself mentality for whatever it is the blond is after with this little rendezvous, I smirk with dry banality.

"Lead the way, Taichou."

* * *

"I'm asking you because generally, the members of your division lack empathy, sympathy, or otherwise _any _ability to have a genuine interest in _anything _that isn't research."

"Careful, if you don't pause for a breath you might hurt yourself."

Kira gives me a bland look. When we reentered Seireitei I told him that I'd rather walk the rest of the way; that it was time for my morning smoke break (not that I hadn't already had a dozen by then). I wanted to get to the core of his motives, and as we navigated the streets of the Thirteenth on our way to the Twelfth, I asked him directly. That lead him to asking me directly what it was I was doing with Grimmjow. And now, here we are.

"Jaegerjaquez was relinquished from your division's. . .'care,' and whatever experiment you and your captain are conducting is a violation of his rights."

I stare at him, and say nothing as I suck on my cigarette with lewd vigor. The blond looks at me as he awaits my response - starting to flush, faintly. . . - but when he realizes that I'm not going to give him one, he frowns.

"He's a part of my division, now. That makes him _my _subordinate. I'm his captain, and I have a right to know."

"You weren't acting like his captain last night. In fact, if I remember correctly, you told me to 'make sure he didn't get himself into any serious trouble' if I saw him. You renounced your duty as 'his captain' the moment you turned him over to me, Kira. If you really believe that Kurotsuchi-taichou and I are experimenting on Grimmjow, why exactly did you tell me to look after him?"

Narrowing his eyes, the third division captain sets his mouth seriously. "I wouldn't turn anyone over to a member of the Twelfth. I told you to make sure he didn't get into trouble if you saw him; I didn't give you permission to experiment on him. Experiment on yourself, and any other shinigami from your division for all I care. But when those experiments bleed into the rest of the Gotei 13, and when they're done without the subject's knowledge or consent, it becomes a crime."

I could say that Grimmjow _does _have knowledge of what Kurotsuchi-taichou is doing, and that he _has _given his consent. But I don't, because if I did it would be a confession, and I have no reason to confirm Kira's suspicions. "What are you trying to say, Kira?" I ask him instead, stepping closer. "From where I'm standing, it sounds like your little show of disapproval is a threat."

"A warning," the blond answers, his lashes lowered faintly; his gaze daring. I cock my brow, and smirk slowly as I chuckle.

"I know that you've had a history when it comes to letting things get to your head, but I think that this time you're in over it. You may be a captain now, Kira, but you're mistaken if you really think you'd be a match for _mine_."

His lips part slightly, and his brows twist (even tighter than they already are). "As long as Jaegerjaquez is a member of the Third, I won't allow him to be used by your division."

I don't say anything for a moment as I stare at the other man intently. The smirk is still there, and it jerks tighter as I consider Kira's words. "Is that what this is about?" I mutter, intrigued. "Does all of this hit a little too close to home for you?"

I have to give him credit for not flinching. But even so, he can't seem to stop his jaw from clenching. I think that if I were to look down, I'd see his hand balled into a fist at his side. I don't look down, though, because I'm far more interested in the play of emotions on his cold, wounded face.

"We're all 'using' him in our own ways, aren't we, Kira?" I question. "I am. The Gotei 13 is for taking him hostage and trying to use him to their advantage instead of just killing him." Kira opens his mouth at that, and I know what he wants to say - _That isn't true. He hasn't been killed out of sympathy, not because he's being shaped into a tool_- but I ride over him, stepping even closer as I continue.

"You are."

Kira's mouth hangs open slightly, caught on the words that he wanted to speak. I lean down slowly, and stare at the wall behind him as my mouth hovers near his ear. "Grimmjow may have been in their army, but in all brutal honesty, what kind of connection is that? It only brings you closer to a memory, not the reality. And no matter how many times he grins at you in your office, it's never going to look like Gin's."

His fist slams into my face, and I stagger back with the enraged power of such a blow. His chest is heaving and his eyes are a shock of wild blue as he stares at me, incensed. I smirk at him harshly; narrow my eyes and roll my cigarette to the other side of my mouth.

"Don't-"

"Don't what?" I snap promptly. "Don't say his name? Don't call you on your pathetic hypocrisy? Stop acting so fucking self-righteous, Kira. It's a joke when you're no better than the people you're trying to condemn."

The smaller man doesn't say anything. He's still breathing heavily, and staring at me with those wide eyes, but he doesn't say anything. He swallows once, clenches his fist at his side, then unfurls his fingers slowly. They twitch and creak like rusty gears.

After a long moment in silence, I reach up to rub my knuckles over the bruised flesh of my injured cheek. "So, did you get that out of your system? If you're done with this petty bullshit, Kira, so am I."

He still doesn't say anything. His irises are at the corners now, as he looks off into the distance. I heave a lazy exhale, incapable of actually caring. "Do you still want to see Kurotsuchi-taichou?"

In response to that, Kira turns away and starts walking. In the direction of the Research and Development Institute. I watch him go, and smirk faintly as I tap my cigarette a few times before following him. We walk together without speaking for a good ten minutes, his iced gaze on anything but me. Mostly it remains on the pavement at our feet, and I lift my hand casually so I can flick ash at the back of his haori, just to see if he'll notice. After a few seconds he does, reaching up in an absent-minded manner to brush the offending powder from white material. I chuckle, and he turns his head slightly to look at me over his shoulder.

"I've heard that Kurotsuchi-taichou has blue hair under his. . .uniform."

Arching my brow slowly, I stay quiet and simply stare. I have a good idea of what he's trying to imply, and in all honesty, I'm a little impressed. What he's thinking right now may not be entirely correct, but it's more on the money than I would have given him credit for.

"And his less than pleasant disposition. . ." Kira continues, letting his voice trail with composed suggestiveness. I inspect him from the corner of my eye and he does the same, his mouth twitching a little when mine curls at the corner. I laugh, hoarsely, and I'm unsure as to whether or not I should feel uncomfortable with this intuitive, intimate exchange.

"Huh, aren't you observant?" I mock, smirking with jagged amusement. "With such a keen eye, we may have a job for you at the Institute."

Kira's smile is a little dry; worn out, drained of warmth, his eyes just as cold as he looks at me beneath somnolent lashes. I tilt my head back and close my eyes calmly as I pull nicotine into my lungs. I open my mouth and exhale slowly, blowing smoke rings into the air. "I won't deny that there's a certain resemblance."

"I hear a 'but.' "

Again, I don't say anything. I crack my eyes open to slits, and watch the clouds overhead. There is a "but," only it's a but that I can't accurately explain at this stage in the game. I know that the former Espada is different from my captain of over a century; that he occupies a space in my life that is entirely separate from the space that Kurotsuchi-taichou occupies. As of right now, I can't tell what the difference is between their positions, exactly, or how different they _really _are - if one is more important than the other, and if so, by how much.

All I know is that Grimmjow _is _important. How I measure that importance, I'm still trying to figure out. I'm still weighing; still speculating; still computing. I have a feeling that any concrete solution to this "study" of mine is far out of reach, still, and that it will be for a long time. But, that's the exciting part. If all answers were easy, or if they were predictable, then scientists would never be stimulated for long enough to enjoy their experiments.

"Is it too much to think that Kurotsuchi-taichou. . ."

Kira's voice filters in and out quietly, and I can't tell if he's just murmured to himself, or to both of us. Either way I hear his words, and they have my mouth twitching faintly; fighting a frown, this time, instead of suggesting the beginnings of a smirk. I ignore the unfinished question he's left hanging in the air between us, and open the doors to the Research and Development Institute.

* * *

The room we find my captain in smells strongly of preserving fluids, and he has his hands buried in the belly of a naked Arrancar. Her skin is drained of color in death, but her hair is violet. Brittle, lacking luster, but a deep shade of purple all the same. I look away, pull a drag from my cigarette, and glance at Kira. The man looks even more pale than usual, like he could be sick at any moment, but after a silent, calming breath, he strides forward with purpose. My eccentric captain doesn't break his inspection of the girl's innards until Kira is standing directly in front of him, on the other side of the examination table. He ignores the blond for a good two minutes before he glances up slowly. His golden eyes are lazy, and a cruel grin cuts his calico mask with smooth precision.

"Kira Izuru. Which limb should I remove first, as compensation for interrupting my work?"


	11. Chapter 11

Balanced on the balls of my feet, my arms resting on my knees, I glare at the shinigami that pass below me. I'm crouched low on the roof of some unimportant reaper building, sneering in disgust at the thought of being back in Seireitei. When a group of black-robed fuckers notices me with cautious, suspicious eyes, I gather snot at the back of my throat and hawk it at them.

The fact that I'm still stuck in shinigami territory - and just found out that they implanted me with a fucking _tracking _device like I'm some kind of animal - is largely to blame for my irritation. I'm pissed beyond all reason that I have to look at these fucking eye-sores, and the end of it isn't as near within my grasp as I thought it was. The reiatsu limiter has been removed but they're still keeping close tabs on me, which shouldn't be surprising. They're watching my every move and don't think I haven't noticed that Pantera is still (presumably) impounded in some undisclosed location.

I wonder, with hard eyes and a menacing grin, if they realize that they're just egging me on.

My attention is suddenly redirected when I sense a steady hum of reiatsu rushing towards me. Hands balling into fists reflexively, every muscle in my body snaps taut with tension. I wait a second, then two, then three-

Whipping around, I use sonído to speed towards my new target, adrenaline flooding my veins. The moment he's within reach I lash out violently, my strength concentrated in my leg as I swing it towards him. The shinigami comes to an abrupt halt, his arm darting up at the last minute to deflect my blow. His slanted eyes are wide with surprise while the rest of his face remains sternly obstinate. I bare my teeth excitedly and snarl my intent, before swinging for his scarred face.

"Following Kira's orders like an obedient little bitch, huh? I knew you were pathetic the moment I saw you."

The other man dodges quickly, my fist glancing a blow along his wrist. I watch his eyes narrow and his jaw set, but I don't give him a chance to react beyond that as I advance. I can feel the first subtle waves of aggravation wafting off of him as he blocks aggressive attack after aggressive attack, and all it does is feed my hunger.

"You obeyed Akon easily enough yourself, Jaegerjaquez," he finally manages, with just a hint of strain in his voice from exerting himself.

Brows furrowed, I growl angrily as I aim for the bastard's head with my foot, attempting to kick it clean off his scrawny shoulders. I connect with nothing as he flips back through the air - out of reach - and lands soundly on the roof below us.

"You're attracting an audience," he states calmly, despite his hard eyes as he stares up at me.

"I follow no one's orders but my fuckin' own," I counter with a sneer. Glancing away, I glare at the small "audience" that's gathered below us. Small groups of shinigami have clustered about, no doubt waiting to see what's going to happen next between a former Espada and one of their "captains."

I return my cold gaze to my scarred opponent, grinning mockingly. "I'm sure you're used to attracting attention. Who would'a thought a punk like you would have the balls to plaster something that perverted on your fuckin' _face_."

The man's thin brows furrow minutely, his hand resting on the hilt of his zanpakutou. "I think the only thing perverted here is you, Jaegerjaquez."

Aggravated, I land just inches in front of him and narrow my eyes. "What the hell else could it mean if it doesn't mean what I think it does?"

"Why are you so interested?" he counters tonelessly, despite the fact that his slanted eyes spark with a hint of defensiveness. Scowling, I hover close within his personal space to keep him on edge.

"You were Tousen's fuck toy, weren't you?

That seems to take him by surprise. He falters for a moment, then responds as if he's correcting me. "I was his lieutenant."

"Right. His fuck toy. You fucked your way through the ranks."

Now _his _eyes are narrowed, tension in his jaw as his fingers tighten around his zanpakutou. "I don't know how Espada got promoted in Hueco Mundo, but if that's how it was you must have been piss poor in bed, Jaegerjaquez. You only made it to Sexta."

"_You fuckin' bastard_."

Grabbing him by the white collar of his haori, I drag him closer with a snarl. "You got some fuckin' mouth on you, Fuck-face. But I guess that explains why you got that tattoo."

"If you're really _that _curious, why don't you ask me nicely?"

For a moment I can't respond, because I hadn't expected an answer like that. His voice is low and his eyes are dark, and I can't tell if he means ask him nicely about the origins of his tattoo, or ask him nicely if we can sixty-nine.

And before I can decide, the scarred shinigami suddenly smacks my arm away, dislodging my hand with more force than I would have expected. He smooths the wrinkled fabric I had bunched in my fist, then looks at me with serious eyes.

"I suggest you return to the Third. You're already walking on thin ice and one more wrong move will land you somewhere you hate even more than Seireitei. If it's a fight you're really after, come see me _if _Pantera is returned to you."

Sneering, I start to growl that I'm not here for his fucking entertainment, that I'll get Pantera back whether they _allow _it or not, and that he'll be the last pathetic weakling I waste my time on. But again, before I even have the chance to, he's flash-stepped out of my sight.

"_Fuckin' coward!_" I roar at the sky, incensed and disgusted. When I look at the street below I see the crowds of shinigami have dispersed, but a few stragglers watch me warily as they pass by.

"The fuck you lookin' at? I'll rip your throat out and shit down it."

Barking a hysterical laugh, I stare them down until they're out of sight. When they're finally gone my face falls, and I gaze at the wide expanse of shinigami buildings that surround me, expressionless. The distant horizon - mockingly red - seems to goad knowingly as I think that there isn't any place, anywhere, that I'd hate more than Seireitei.

* * *

I don't return to the Third out of sheer defiance, although I hadn't planned on it in the first place anyway. Seeing as I'm already walking a thin line (according to Fuck-face) that seems to be getting under shinigami skin, I decide to toe along it that much harder. I head straight for Twelfth Division and enter Akon's private quarters, although all things considered, they probably aren't private at all.

Kicking the shouji open, I scan his room quickly. It's dark and empty save for a ghostly cloud of lingering smoke that invades my nostrils. I snort derisively as I enter, my hands resting comfortably in my pockets. My eyes continue to survey my new surroundings as I saunter over to his futon. His sheets are arranged neatly, a stark contrast as I consider the disheveled state of my own futon. I expected them to be white like his sterilized lab coat, but instead they're an earthly beige.

Dingy looking, almost, despite their orderly appearance.

I sit down, and for a moment I stare unblinkingly at nothing in particular as I consider my options. It's been a few hours since the fucker accepted Kira's _supervision,_ and while I briefly recall that Kira said he had something to "discuss" with that yellow-toothed fucker, I find myself more concerned with Akon's final words.

Clipped, impatient, fucking _dismissive_. My upper lip curls and my eyes narrow at an imagined version of him that involves my vengeful hands and his bloody innards.

Turning, I glare at his futon and tear up the sheets so they're in disarray. After a moment's thought I lay back, settling more comfortably than I'd like to against his mattress as I undo my obi. Pushing my hakama down around my thighs, I rearrange myself so I'm lying on my stomach. I press my naked cock into his sheets and spread my legs for better leverage as I grind myself against the mattress. My breathing starts to pick up and I grit my teeth as I rub myself to arousal.

I can feel the first strands of precome, hot and slick as it smears between my cock and Akon's futon. I roll onto my back and take hold of myself, jerking my hand aggressively. More come leaks along the head, and I wipe it on Akon's sheets before returning my attention to beating off. I'm panting gruffly by now, and my legs shift restlessly as they seek purchase. My feet dig into the mattress and my skin is hot, burning with need as my hips arch. I'm getting closer with every deliberate twist of my wrist, my calloused fingers scraping and tugging in all the right places. Grappling with my free hand, I fist a handful of Akon's sheets and pull them over my head.

It's like every nerve in my body throbs the second his scent hits me. The smokey, pungent smell of cigarettes and his own personal musk slam into me like a brick wall, igniting an ache so painful that I feel it in my bones. My toes curl in my tabi and my hand tightens around my cock, pumping viciously. With my free hand I palm my balls and squeeze them hard, rasping a guttural groan as I arch off the futon, ropes of come hitting my chest.

It takes me longer than it should to settle back down. I'm still taut with crackling nerves, shaken by my orgasm as my chest heaves. Slowly, I start to melt back against his tangled sheets. My breathing begins to even out and I let my hands rest where they are, content against my sated cock. My body is slack with satisfaction and my eyes are barely open, drifting shut inch by inch. Akon's smell still surrounds me, sparking pleasurable pricks throughout my body. I find myself twisting where I lay, starting to wrap myself in his sheets, images of him naked, flushed, spread wide open-

When the sheet is suddenly torn away, my eyes snap open and I'm immediately on the defensive. Now my skin is tingling for an entirely different reason, and I stare unblinkingly at the figure standing above me. He's behind me, positioned at such an angle that it's hard to decipher his expression. On the other hand, it's likely that he's just lacking an expression all together. From my vantage point his eyes look pitch-black, cold and bottomless within the hollowed cave of his pale, hairless brow.

"I really hope the need to mark your territory ends here, and that next time I don't walk in on you smearing your feces on my walls."

His low voice shatters the silent wall of tension that our locked eyes had erected between us. I sit up quickly and shift around so I'm facing him, scooting back on the futon to put some distance between us. My eyebrows are furrowed over an otherwise bland expression as I use his sheet to wipe the come from my chest. He watches me and a flicker of what I _swear _is disappointment has a wave of smug arrogance flooding my system. I suddenly think to myself that punishment doesn't always have to involve ripping out someone's insides.

Leaning back slowly, I recline on my forearms and let my legs fan open. My hakama has slipped down to my ankles by now, and I grin at Akon - sharp with predacious intent - as he puts a cigarette between his lips.

"If you wanted ta lick it up all you had to do was ask."

Akon pauses while bringing that silver lighter to his mouth. His thumb is on the dial but he's yet to light his cigarette. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and then he just chuckles, dry amusement in his gaze.

"Are you ready for another round so soon?"

Brows furrowing, I narrow my eyes and sit up a little straighter. "I'm always ready, dipshit. Now get on your knees and suck my fucking dick."

Snorting softly, the dumb bastard is stupid enough to ignore me in favor of lighting his cigarette. The white cylinder burns an angry red that mirrors my escalating temper. Aggravated that he has the fucking nerve to reject me _twice _in the same day, I scowl furiously and get to my feet. I'm about to punch a hole through his fucking head when suddenly it occurs to me that two can play that game. Cooling my expression, I pull my hakama up and start fastening my obi.

"Don't sulk. After last night I'm willing to give your stamina the benefit of the doubt," Akon goads lightly, smirking around his cigarette as he reaches for my groin. I snatch his wrist in a bruising grip to stop him short, staring him hard in the eye.

"When I want you to die choking, it'll be on Pantera."

For a moment he just stares at me, expressionless. His lips are parted slightly so his cigarette dangles precariously between them, his dark eyes cold as he registers what I said. I shove his hand away as I walk around him, pocketing my own while heading for the open shouji.

"I knew you had an ego but I didn't know it bruised so easily," Akon finally says, matter-of-fact but with a detectable harshness punctuating his tone. I can sense his irritation is accented with reluctant confusion, which incites my sharp, satisfied grin.

"That shinigami with the sixty-nine on his face? I'd rather take his mouth for a spin, see if that tattoo has a right ta be there in the first place."

I send him one final look over my shoulder. Smoke billows from his nostrils and the tilt of his head is unexpectedly arrogant.

So is the hoarse sound of his smoker's voice when he laughs like he knows something I don't.

* * *

I barge into Kira's office with a snarl, Akon's infuriating condescension still fresh in my mind. I pace in front of his desk and stare down at him with murderous eyes. He stares back, calm and questioning, before he finally asks: "What is it now?"

I want to say "By the time I'm through every single one of you will be dead," but I'm sure he already knows that, so instead I settle on the second thing that springs to mind.

"What'd you _discuss _with Akon's captain when you went to the Twelfth earlier?"

Kira's scrawny brow arches slightly, as if he wasn't expecting that particular response. "Should something like that be any of your concern? If you truly insist on resisting assimilation, I'd suggest staying out of our politics."

Leaning forward on his desk, I narrow my eyes and lower my voice. "This ain't about fucking _politics_. That bastard has a date with death and I got him footing the bill."

"Interesting analogy," Kira comments quietly, returning his brow to its perpetually "thoughtful" state. He reaches inside his haori and pulls out something that I can't identify until it's set down in front of me. "Take this. It should flush the bacteria from your system."

Jerking back defensively, I scrutinize the proffered object with hostile eyes. It's some kind of small, sickly green capsule. So Kira knows about the fucked-up surveillance bacteria, huh? How'd he find out? Or more importantly. . .

"Where the fuck did you get this?"

"Does it really matter to you?"

"_Who?_" I revise between clenched teeth.

Kira sighs softly, like he's being inconvenienced somehow. "Kurotsuchi-taichou is the only one with the knowledge to eradicate something that he created. But the Soutaichou has also been made aware of your current predicament."

"What, that supposed ta make me feel better? Instill me with confidence or some shit?"

"Jaegerjaquez, I can't imagine anything is capable of instilling you with confidence that you don't already possess."

I snort, and grin in spite of myself. At least someone around here knows who the fuck they're dealing with. I eye the tiny capsule a second time, skeptical as I weigh my options and contemplate the fact that it came from that yellow-toothed fucker. What I _want_ to say is "fuck that" and "fuck him" - that I don't want anything to do with _anything _that involves Kurotsuchi Mayuri - but potentially getting rid of the shit he put inside of me is one hell of a temptation.

"It's a pill," Kira suddenly intones, apparently taking my contemplative silence for confused ignorance. "You swallow it, but I can crush it into your food if that makes you more comfortable. It's something I've seen done to sick animals in the Living World."

"Fuck you," I snap back, though my mind's already focused elsewhere as I snatch the pill from his desk. I shove my hands into my pockets and start walking away without another word.

"You're welcome," is all Kira says in return, sounding distant himself. I'm already in the hallway outside his office when he speaks up again.

"One more thing."

I pause, deliberately unwilling, before glancing back at him.

"I think if you hold tight for a few more weeks, there's a chance Pantera will be returned to you."

My ears perk and my eyes narrow to dangerous slits. "Where is he?"

"That's classified information that I don't have access to, and for good reason."

He gives me a pointed look as if to say,_ I know what you're thinking, Jaegerjaquez, and trying to beat the information out of me would be useless because I don't have it to begin with._

I stare at the other man for one long, calculating moment. Then I grin slowly, my gaze honed on him as I bare my teeth. "They'd change their minds if I held you captive with a cero aimed at your head. Then again, they might think it's one less worthless fuck hangin' around and wastin' space. You better hope I _don't_ get him back, shinigami, if you're attached to your head beyond that scrawny lookin' thing you call a neck."

* * *

I don't know for certain what Kira meant by "flush," but I've got an idea or two, and neither of them look pretty in my head. Thinking that I don't need to be seen by any shithead shinigami when I experiment with this damned pill I got from the fucking _Twelfth,_ I decide to revisit the spot I had found after Akon collar-shocked me that one time. The reminder leaves a sour taste in my mouth, especially when I have his new bullshit stunts to think about.

Scowling, I stalk up to the abandoned building and look for the broken column I had destroyed the last time I was here. Its splintered edges are dark with the remains of my blood that's long since dried. If I think too much about Akon and how his behavior has made me feel, I'll start to wonder why I bothered with him at all. And if I did that, I'd have to acknowledge that I'm thinking about my fuck toy beyond the fucking.

And I don't think about my fuck toys beyond fucking. I don't contemplate the things my fuck toys do unless those things involve my cock. Take my cock out of the picture (or their mouth, or ass, or cunt) and I couldn't care less.

Grimacing, I sit down on the building's tattered steps. I reach into my pocket to retrieve the sickly green pill, then hold it up to get a better look at it. Looks harmless enough, as small as it is, but by now I know better than to underestimate anything that comes out of Soul Society's Twelfth Division. I roll the capsule between my fingers, turning it over in my mind.

"_Fuck,_" I snarl, raking my other hand through my tangled hair. This piece of shit could kill me for all I know. Wouldn't that get the fuckers off? Nothing like taking out an Espada using some fucking _pill_.

I shoot to my feet and start pacing, balling my hands into fists, flexing my fingers. I haven't forgotten about Kurosaki and his promise to fight me as many times as I want. I haven't forgotten that his life belongs to me and when he dies I'll be the one responsible for it. I haven't forgotten that Kurotsuchi Mayuri has to pay and so does every other shinigami plaguing this hellhole.

I haven't forgotten that Akon needs to regret turning me down twice in the same day.

They could be watching me this very moment, I realize. Him and his fucking _captain_. Laughing as I squirm, the smug, perverse fuckers that they are.

Glaring at the pill in my palm, I crack a willful grin. "Nice try, fuckers, but you won't get me with pathetic shit like this."

It rings like a challenge as I slap my hand against my mouth. Kira's voice sounds in my head: _Swallow it_. The pill hits my tongue and I throw my head back before I can taste anything.

For the first few seconds, all I do is stand stock-still, waiting for something to happen. I don't know what I should be expecting, exactly, but whatever it is I want to be prepared. Like a panther that senses danger in the darkness, but knows that it won't go down without a fight.

It takes about two minutes to kick in. My skin starts to feel hot, and my stomach (or what's left of it around my hollow hole, anyway) slowly starts to churn. I steel myself but somehow the first wave manages to take me by surprise. The slow churning suddenly twists so violently that I hardly have time to bend over before a swell of fluid is surging upwards. I gag, retch, and reach out instinctively for something to grab onto so I can steady myself. Nothing's nearby so I fall to my knees, disoriented as I heave around a mouthful of something thick and oily.

The stuff drips from my mouth like some slimy web.

Gasping, I claw at grass and dirt as my whole body shakes with uncontrollable tremors. My eyes burn like acid's been thrown at them, and there's an unbearable pain all the way in my fucking bones. I choke, spasm, and tremble pathetically. It's worse than I thought it'd be, and my mind reels when I think it's never going to end.

When it finally starts to subside, I'm able to notice a pile of slick vomit soaking the ground beneath me. The dark, reddish-black color of it looks too much like blood to be of any comfort.

"_Fuck,_" I rasp, breathless and sore. Tears have streamed down my face involuntarily, and everything looks uneasily blurry. I fall sideways and crawl away, trying to distance myself from what just happened. I gather all the saliva I can and spit it out, worried that the lingering taste in my mouth will start the process all over again.

"Shit."

I spook like a fucking cat, every hair on my body bristling as I whip my head around. My vision swims but I can tell who it is by their voice, and the block of white that's moving towards me.

"You'll be fine," he tells me. It's hard to read his tone when I'm so bewildered, and I feel infuriatingly _panicked _when my vision swirls with black. I'm practically fucking _blind _and I snarl like a rabid animal when I sense him kneeling near me.

"Fuck off," I warn him, like a hiss between my teeth. I feel increasingly feverish and my anxiety shoots through the roof.

"_Fuck off!_" I roar, dangerously close to losing it completely now that I can't see him at all. When his hand cups the side of my face I snap, lunging for him now that I know exactly where he is. He struggles to get a hold of me and I struggle to rip his throat out, until finally he's holding me so close that I can't move well enough to do any real damage. One arm is wrapped around my waist and the other is hooked under my armpit, my hair trapped in the controlling grip of his fist.

"_You'll be fine,_" he says again, stern and confident.

_Reassuring,_ I manage to register through the agonizing dread that thunders against my skull.

"I'll fucking kill you," I rasp, twisting in his arms. I try to push him away, to hurt him as best I can without being able to see where my hands make contact. I'm panting and he won't let go, until my mind blackens like my sight.

* * *

The next time I find myself conscious, I feel like death warmed over. I startle awake in the middle of a deep, pitch-black sleep, alarmed and bewildered. Either I'm still being affected by that fucking pill or it's just too dark, but for a moment I have no idea where I am. I finally realize that I'm back in my room, resting on my futon, my head cushioned comfortably. My sheets are covering me and I notice that I still feel sweltering, so I kick them off with an agitated groan.

"You've been out for a whole day."

I had sensed him there, sitting in the far corner, but I had tried to ignore his presence. Now that he's spoken I just grit my teeth and turn on my side, resisting the urge to curl into the fetal position.

"Don't tell me you've been there the whole fucking time. Are you fuckin' obsessed with me or what?"

"No, although I did come by more than once to see if you died. In case you had, Kurotsuchi-taichou wanted to make sure he got his hands on your corpse before anyone else."

I glower in his direction, my jaw clenched. "Get out of my fucking room."

I hear a resounding sigh as Akon gets up and starts walking towards me. I'm surprised to see that he isn't smoking, and more surprised when I realize that it doesn't even smell like the stuff. There should be a lingering scent if he had smoked at some point while I was still asleep.

"What happened to your sense of humor? You've been petulant ever since yesterday morning."

"I've been _bored,_" I correct, eyes narrowed. "You were good for a few fucks, plain an' simple. Don't cling to me like a fuckin' woman."

Akon snorts his disbelief, looking down at me with hard, uncompromising eyes. "Cling to you? Need I remind you that _you_ were the one I caught masturbating in _my _bed, with my sheets wrapped around your head?"

I don't say anything as I curse vehemently inside my head, damning that fucking pill for zapping my strength. If it weren't for that I would have already dragged this bastard out of my room by his throat and thrown him on his ass.

When he sits down on the edge of my futon I kick at him. He catches my ankle and drags me closer, pulling my leg over his lap so I'm nestled tight against his hip. I tell myself that the heat I feel in my face is the result of still being feverish.

"Something's bothering you. The reiatsu limiter was removed and now the surveillance bacteria is gone, but you're more restless now than you were before. What is it?" he asks me seriously, while his hand slides up my calf to curl around my knee. He doesn't even seem to realize what he's doing, and it pisses me off that this moment we're having feels more intimate than having his tongue up my ass.

I'm not used to bullshit like this. I've always gone out of my way to _avoid _bullshit like this. I sit up on my hands and push myself back, scowling at him angrily.

"I'm not a fucking _toy,_" I hiss. "I'm not anyone's fucking _entertainment, _and treating me like a fucking dog with a treat dangled over its head? Trying to make me chase my own fucking tail? Do your worst but I'll never jump through hoops. Not for Aizen, not for you, not for _anyone_."

For a minute he just stares at me. I sit still against the wall and stare back, unmoved as I wait for him to respond or get the fuck out of my room.

What he finally does isn't what I was expecting. I was expecting some dry, calculated, smart-ass justification or taunt. But instead he shifts closer, leaning towards me, his gaze holding mine. I grimace as I try to lean back, but I'm already pressed against the wall. His eyes lower slightly as he presses his lips to mine, and I growl as I snap my teeth at his mouth. He just grabs the side of my neck, the hairs at my nape pinched between his fingers, as he presses harder into the kiss.

Before I know it my struggles to hurt and reject him turn into struggles to pull him into me. He's shifted closer and somehow I'm pressed tightly against his hip for the second time. I claw at his scalp and shoulders as his hands slide over my back, pulling me even closer as he groans into my mouth. I shudder under his touch and pant against him as I arch into his body, licking between his lips hungrily. I end up crumpled on my back, trapped underneath him, the weight of his body pressed between my legs as I kiss him with violent urgency. His hips are just starting to rub against me when abruptly he breaks away, straightening his arms so he's leaning over me and out of reach. My brows are furrowed and my hands grip his sides as my chest heaves.

"You taste horrible."

"You think you taste any better? Like stale cigarettes every fuckin' time."

"Well, I think you must enjoy it more than you're willing to admit, all things considered. Were you talking about Pantera when you said a treat's being dangled over you?"

I grimace angrily and start to sit up, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.

"I don't know where it is," he continues, before I can ask him anything. "You already know it was confiscated as soon as you entered Soul Society. Taichou ran a few tests, but I haven't seen it in weeks. In all honesty, I don't think it's in his possession anymore."

"Why the fuck should I believe you? Wherever he is, I'll fuckin' find him. And when I do I'll turn this shithole upside down."

"I'm sure you will," he says faintly. Shockingly, the bastard sounds sincere for once, instead of annoyingly sarcastic. It makes me squint at him suspiciously, especially when the corner of his mouth turns a slight smirk.

"A he? What does he look like?"

My brows knot together as I stare at him. "What's it to you?"

"Just curious as to the appearance of your soul."

I snort, drawing my legs up so I can rest my forearms on my knees. "Why the fuck should I let you in on somethin' like that when you still haven't shown me your zanpakutou?"

"It's rare for members of my division to carry their zanpakutous, with the exception of Kurotsuchi-taichou. It just isn't our department, usually."

"But you gotta have 'em somewhere. You couldn't call yourselves soldiers otherwise."

"I never claimed to be a soldier anyway. I'm a researcher."

My lip curls derisively, and Akon just chuckles, turning his head away as he mutters "You wouldn't understand something like that," almost as if he's speaking to himself. It irritates me, so I scowl and kick him in his side.

"Why were you in that place for prisoners?" I demand to know.

"The Ujimushi no Su?" he questions, glancing back at me. He acts like he didn't even notice being kicked, so I shove him with my foot one more time for good measure. Just to make sure he's paying attention. He grabs my leg and yanks me towards him again, sprawling me on my back. I growl a warning but he leans over me anyway, sitting comfortably between my legs.

"Well, I guess you could say I was tinkering with things that I shouldn't have. Curiosity really can kill the cat, so I'd be careful if I were you, Jaegerjaquez."

"You're too fuckin' vague," I grumble, agitated as I struggle to stare at his eyes instead of his mouth.

"I tinkered with the bodies of people at various stages in their development, to put it mildly."

"In plain fuckin' English?"

"Kids my age, women, a few men. Whoever I could get my hands on, as long as they seemed interesting."

I don't say anything at first; just stare at his face as I try to figure out if he's yanking my chain. He holds my gaze with calm, serious eyes, and I have to bark an incredulous laugh. "You aren't shittin' me, are you? You really are fucked in the head! Figured you had ta be ta work under someone like that, but fuck. . . Wait. You were a fuckin' _kid?_"

Akon chuckles huskily. "Even I find it hard to imagine, and I was there. It was over a century ago."

I snort, a little disbelieving in spite of myself. I sit up on my forearms and cock my head sideways as I size him up through slits for eyes.

"So that what this is? Just another body for you to tinker with?"

"Well," Akon murmurs, glancing down as he runs his hand up my thigh, "the tinkering I did back then usually involved different entry points. Ones that I had to make myself, if you catch my drift. Now yours, on the other hand. . ."

The drift of his hand is slow but deliberate, and I can't help shivering in response. I open my legs reflexively and watch with hooded eyes as long, pale fingers meet their destination- which isn't my cock, like I'd been expecting (and hoping for). My brows furrow instantly as I continue to watch Akon's hand drifting higher, over the fabric of my obi, the small expanse of bared skin on my abdomen, until finally. . . His calloused fingers skim the rim of my hollow hole, and I have to grind my teeth together to keep my breath from hitching. He fingers that sensitive area with fleeting, teasing touches, making me fist the sheets at my sides as I inhale sharply.

It sounds like a hiss between my tightly clenched teeth. I turn that hiss into a growl as I bare my teeth, my lips curled back. He stares at me with those black eyes of his, a small, self-satisfied smirk on his face. What he does next has my eyes widening and rolling back in their sockets- he curls his fingers around my hollow hole, then leans in to press his fucking _face _into my fucking _crotch_. He rubs his head against me like an animal, over balls, cock, _everything_. I feel his nose nudging me as he inhales deeply, something of a groan emanating from his mouth as he buries his face closer for a better whiff.

I quiver like a pathetic sack of pure _need, _flushed and groaning. I let my legs fall open even wider, inviting, as I reach down to yank on his hair.

Just as my fingertips brush those coarse strands they're suddenly out of reach. I blink my eyes open and find Akon hovering above me, watching me seriously as he covers my forehead with his palm.

"I think you're still feeling the effects of Taichou's pill. If I were you, I'd rest for a few more days."

I would have said "I'm feeling the effects of your perverted nose-dive into my fucking crotch" if it didn't sound like I was giving him so much credit. Instead I pull him down and latch onto his mouth, kissing him harshly. Fuck him, fuck that pill, and fuck his fucking _Taichou_. I'm fucking tired of hearing him say _Taichou_.

Pissed, I bite down on his bottom lip, snarling as I pierce that delicate flesh with vengeful teeth. Akon grumbles something unintelligible and manages to break away, his lip stretched between us for a moment before I decide to let it go. His mouth glistens with spit and blood, making me grin as I lick red droplets from my satisfied lips.

"You're dangerous no matter how impaired you are," he comments, sounding amused as he rubs his tongue over his torn lip.

"Thought you would'a figured that out by now, shit-for-brains. And I ain't fuckin' _impaired_. Finish what you started and fucking_ suck my dick_."

Smirking softly, Akon rubs his hand over my cock in what would be a blatantly _affectionate _manner if his eyes weren't so taunting.

"As much as I know you're _dying _for it, Grimmjow, I was serious. I know that pill isn't out of your system completely. I want to tell you to shut the fuck up, suck it up, and take it easy, but if I did that I'm sure you'd do the exact opposite, just to be a defiant jackass. So when you collapse in the streets after this, hopefully it's around some shinigami you haven't pissed off. Because I won't be the one carrying you back here a second time."

He squeezes me one more time for good measure, but before he can stand up I snatch his wrist to hold him still.

"What about you?" I mutter, eyes narrowed. He doesn't avoid my penetrating stare but his expression looks carefully controlled.

"What about me?"

"Is it _gone?_"

Leaning forward slowly, his gaze never breaking contact with my own, Akon reaches around to toy with the hair at my nape. "I stopped trying to figure out what is or isn't inside of me a long time ago."

My brow twitches uncertainly as I shove him away. "You sick fuck. I knew you got off on that shit. _Taichou's_ got you wrapped around his bony-ass finger, don't he? His little _bitch_. Stopped tryin' to figure it out but I bet you know when his _cock's_ inside you."

"I told you jealousy was your department."

Snarling, I tense up in preparation for a lunging attack. But Akon is already in the doorway of my room, sliding the shouji open so he's silhouetted by light from the hallway. His hand rests against the screen door as he looks back at me and says:

"If you weren't so touchy and hadn't left so soon, you would have realized that I would have sucked you off until you begged me to stop."

Those words spark a heat in my chest that I can't interpret. A pounding that I'm not familiar with. He doesn't say anything else before leaving, and I stare at the shouji even after it's been closed. Frustrated, I throw myself back against my futon and roar at the ceiling.

* * *

After Akon left, I ended up falling asleep for what had to be another twenty-four hours. Once I reawakened I dragged myself out of bed and reemerged like death reborn, snarling threateningly at any third division shinigami who was stupid enough to look at me for a second too long. For whatever fucking reason Kira seemed mildly concerned over my condition, and had the balls to force me to sit through a physical examination. Apparently he'd been part of the Fourth Division in the past, which handled medical bullshit, and he just couldn't help himself.

Well I just couldn't help shrugging him off with a growl and demanding to know what the big fucking deal was. Weren't shinigami supposed to be _soldiers?_ He had to of seen fuckin' worse.

While I was "defiantly" on the prowl through Seireitei, I did end up crouched behind a building, trying to stifle my loud retching so no one would notice. I shivered contemptibly for a good ten minutes after the vomiting had subsided, furious that I was immobilized. I refused to be _vulnerable _in Soul Society of all fucking places.

So I went back to my room and slept in a tightly wound ball for another twelve hours.

When I awoke next, I went to the bathroom to clean myself up. I'd been caked with sweat and grime for longer than even I was comfortable with. I scrubbed like I had something poisonous on my skin, and then I let myself soak in piping hot water for a good three hours (refilling the tub with warm water when I had to). When I was dried and dressed I rinsed my mouth for five minutes straight.

Twice.

After that I travelled to Soukyoku Hill so I had a good vantage point to survey Seireitei properly. Standing at the cliff's very edge, with my hands shoved into the pockets of my contemptuously _black _hakama, I scanned the wide expanse of shinigami buildings. With a scowl I jerked my head away, growling in disgust.

I decided, spitefully, to count my losses for the day and went back to the Third.

* * *

It isn't until the third day that I see him again. I hear his voice in Kira's office on my way back to my room, after my routine inspection of Seireitei's boundaries. I also hear Kira's voice and Fuck-face's voice, along with a fourth that I'm not familiar with. My brows furrow contemplatively as I slow my steps, my ears pricking.

"So you think Kurosaki will pay us a visit soon?" I hear Akon asking, in that unconcerned tone of his.

"Pro'ly." It's the fourth, unknown voice that answers, sounding like it's talking with its mouth full. "Gotta start missin' me soon."

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but I think he'd start missing Kuchiki-san before he started missing you, Abarai," Fuck-face comments regretfully.

"Why's it gotta be like that, senpai?"

At that point I shove the shouji open and stare into the room. Transferring my hands to my pockets, I incline my jaw arrogantly so I'm looking down at them. Kira's positioned at his desk and Fuck-face is sitting across from him, while Akon stands behind Fuck-face with a cigarette in his mouth. The fourth shinigami is a weird looking fucker with tattoos all over his face and a shock of ridiculously long, ruby-red hair.

I narrow my eyes at him, envious for reasons that I don't care to think about. I quickly redirect my gaze so I'm glaring at three lunches sitting on Kira's desk, the third currently being devoured by the red-haired shinigami while the other two remain untouched as Kira and Fuck-face stare at me.

"Well ain't this fuckin' _quaint_. Looks like I stumbled on a little shinigami _playdate_."

"Are you feeling well enough to eat something?" Kira decides to ask me seriously. I bristle, eyes flashing as I grin at him maliciously.

"If your innards are what's on today's menu."

Fuck-face snorts a quiet laugh, instantly rousing my interest. He looks at me with his slanted eyes, and something about them is unexpectedly cold. "If the rest of you was as quick as your mouth, you probably wouldn't be a captive."

"The fuck did you say?" I snap, my upper lip curled as I stalk towards him. That's when a spark of movement suddenly captures my attention, and I realize that Akon's just flicked cigarette ash across my path.

"You certainly seem well enough. I was starting to think that maybe you had choked on your own vomit in a ditch somewhere."

Eyeing him quickly, I straighten up and square my shoulders. "Won't get rid of me that easily."

Akon taps more ash from his cigarette before bringing it back to his mouth. His head is tilted slightly, a small smirk forms around the white cylinder parting his lips, and if I didn't know any better I'd say his dark eyes were fucking _flirtatious_.

I consider him for a moment, both suspicious and intrigued. Then I remember that I always throw caution to the fucking wind, so without another word I turn towards the shouji. I don't have to look back to know that he'll follow me, and I'm halfway down the hall when I hear the redhead's incredulous voice.

"Wait- _wait_. They're actually fucking, for real? One of our guys and a former _Espada?_"

Growling to myself, I spin on my heel to ask Akon why all shinigami wanna die so badly. But I'm stopped short because he's right behind me, his eyes half-moons as he wraps his hand around the back of my neck. His cigarette is gone and his other hand slides around my waist as he pulls me closer, his lips pressing against mine. His kiss is confident as he moves forward, forcing me to walk backwards towards my room.

Any complaints I had die on my tongue as he rubs it to wanton compliance with his own sharply spiced muscle. The shouji is fumbled open as we stumble into my room, and closed again before we continue. I stagger back towards my futon, focused on his mouth as I struggle out of the top half of my uniform. He lifts me up easily, which is more of a turn on than it should be, and deposits me on the mattress. I watch him through the dark as he makes quick work of his uniform, stripping down to his hakama before he kneels on the futon and crawls over me.

"It's always so dark in here," he comments, kissing at my mouth as he settles between my legs. I'm working on undoing his obi with impatient fingers, but it's distracting when I feel his teeth grazing my jawline. I think about telling him that I prefer it that way because it's what I knew before Aizen - before shinigami in general - but there's something more important occupying my mind.

"Why'd you ask about Kurosaki?"

He pauses above me, his forearms resting on either side of my head as he looks down at me. I've loosened his hakama so he starts pushing it down and kicking out of it.

"Didn't you say that you'd 'kill that fucker' if it's the last thing you do? You need to settle some score with him?"

Brows furrowed, I watch him disbelievingly as he glances between us and starts undoing my hakama. Not only am I'm dumbfounded that he remembered that conversation, I'm dumbfounded that the fucker's taken it upon himself to get involved in my personal business.

"That shit has nothing to do with you," I remind him sharply, like a warning.

"No, but you feel a little better now, don't you?"

His question is straightforward and blasé. He sounds like he's explaining something obvious and practical to someone mentally impaired. Glancing back at me, the corner of his mouth twists in a way that's too self-satisfied.

"Now you should have something to keep you focused. Something to look forward to," he murmurs, in a soft, suggestive voice. It sounds too much like helpful advice, or just plain _help_. For the first time in a long time, I'm at a loss for snappy comebacks. My teeth clench tightly, and Akon just kisses me again- _soundly,_ and again that sense of _reassurance_.

I don't want to dwell on shit like that. I don't even want to _contemplate _shit like that for a _second,_ let alone dwell on it. Thankfully he pulls away quickly and busies himself with ridding me of my hakama; gives me something else to think about. I pull my legs up to help him and he tosses the clothing away, then takes off my waraji and tabi.

Keeping my legs where they are, I reach around for the tub of lube and throw it at him. He catches it against his chest and arches one pale, hairless brow.

"What's this? Was the other night a little too much for you?"

"Shut your useless mouth and hurry up. I'd like to get off sometime this century."

"You have been waiting for it, haven't you?" he muses reflectively. It's almost like he addressed that question to himself, not looking at me as he dips his fingers into the tub. I watch him with narrowed eyes as he sets the lube aside, holding my legs to my chest. He glances into my eyes, then lets his gaze trail south, down my heaving abdomen until it reaches the goods. His black eyes seem to darken - as impossible as that should be - as he stares at my flushed cock. But he doesn't say anything else as he slides his fingers over the crack of my ass.

I shudder when his slicked fingertips brush my entrance. I grip my thighs tightly and let my head fall back so my neck's relaxed. His free hand slides up my thigh and I transfer mine to his forearm, holding onto him as he grips the bend in my knee.

Given his unsettling attitude since we entered my room, I thought he'd go too slow and I'd have to take matters into my own hands. But much to my (relieved) surprise, he opens me up quickly and roughly. Within a minute he's three-fingers-deep inside me, pushing and twisting insistently. I'm breathing harshly and my forehead is damp with sweat, toes curling when he brushes that spot inside me. I gasp hoarsely, my fingers digging into his arm as he massages that spot mercilessly.

When he unexpectedly takes my sack into his mouth and sucks on it with a throaty groan, my back snaps violently and I almost shoot my fucking load.

With a snarled hiss I push him away and flip myself over. I spread my legs around him, ass in the air, as I rest my forehead against the crook of my arm and reach down down to stop myself from coming too soon. Fuck, I'm way too pent up for this shit. . . It's all this fucker's fault for letting me go so long. If I wasn't set on getting fucked into oblivion, I'd pin him to the mattress and make sure he couldn't walk for weeks.

I'm certain that my kneeling, willing, and _spread wide open_ stance has clearly painted "Fuck Me" across my ass, because not a second goes by before Akon grabs my hips and drags me closer. His cock slaps against the crack of my ass like a formal decree ("Prepare to be pulverized, bitch"), before it's put into position and shoved into me with dominating force.

The sudden intrusion is foreign, but thankfully the prep loosened me enough that the pain is minimal. I inhale and exhale deeply, clenched tightly around his cock, until I'm slowly able to relax my muscles. I'm dimly aware of his thumbs rubbing over my hips as his hands cup the bend in my waist.

When he finally starts thrusting, I have my burning face buried in the sheets. The already crumbled fabric is balled up in my fists, moistened by the heavy panting that escapes my mouth. I growl a guttural groan as Akon rides me, the feel of his eager hips smacking against mine burning me up from the inside out.

I arch my hips for a better angle, eyes rolling when his cock finally hits where it really counts. His fingers bite into my flesh as he pounds into me, forcing a grunt from my throat. When he leans over me, grinding himself into my ass, his hand reaching around to fondle my cock. . . He pinches the sensitive skin of my nape between his teeth, soothes it with his tongue, and then he fucking _chuffs_-

I gasp, practically _whining _as my whole body snaps tight. I shudder, convulse, and my eyes sting with the force of my climax. I spill over his hand and bite my arm as he rubs me through it, dragging it out to the point that it starts to hurt.

Normally I would have lasted longer than that, but I tell myself that this will teach him not to leave me hanging for four fucking days. (Or five, if I count the day I took that damned pill.) It's the stupid bastard's own fault that I came before he could get off.

With that decided in my head I start to sag, melting back towards the mattress with satisfaction and exhaustion. But before I can make myself comfortable Akon's flipping me over, pushing me on my back and spreading my legs.

"The fuck?" I grouse incoherently, incapable of registering what's going on when I'm in a post-orgasmic daze.

Next thing I know, Akon's hand is clasped over my mouth as he reacquaints himself with my ass, shoving himself balls-deep. It doesn't hurt but it's unexpected, especially when just a second ago I couldn't tell up from down. My breath hitches against his sweaty palm, and he leans over me as he quickly picks up the momentum he had before I came. I want to be pissed at him for tossing me down like a fucking rag doll, but it's hard when his thumb rubs my jaw _fondly,_ and his cock fills me up like it belongs there and nowhere else.

"Don't be selfish," he tells me in a husky voice, smirking lightly as he stares down at me. The look in his eye sends a shudder racing through me, and I respond by licking up the salty sweat on his palm. His lashes lower, his lips part, and he shifts his hand so my tongue's teasing between his fore and middle finger.

I'm vaguely aware of the fact that Akon could still have the bacteria inside him. Vaguely aware of the fact that his fucking _captain _could be watching us. And right there is when I become more actively aware of the fact that now, I'll be only thing he gets to see. He's been stuck with _me _and me alone, and that means _his _researcher has officially become _mine_. His sweating, panting, flushing; eyes fluttering and smoker's voice rasping. . . All of it belongs to _me_.

I finally realize that it doesn't really matter if Akon is still infected or not. Because even if he is, observing him like _this _has been reserved for me, and his perverted captain has been left out in the cold.

I hook my legs around his waist and slam my hips to meet his next thrust. His naked brow furrows deeply, and his teeth scrape his bottom lip. He tangles his fingers in my hair, yanks on it harshly, and I claw up his back with skin-breaking force. He arches against me, groaning, and I know he's close by the desperate speed of his hammering hips.

He crushes his mouth to mine and I part my lips for his tongue, swallowing his panting breaths as I kiss him with a hunger I haven't known since my last fight with Kurosaki.

* * *

Later, I'm reclining on my back with my head resting against his stomach. He faces the shouji as I face the wall, turning his silver lighter over again between my fingers. Smoke hangs in the air above me from his cigarette, but I don't pay attention to it as I watch lingering light from outside catch on the lighter's reflective surface.

"Did you really not have mirrors or anything like them in Hueco Mundo?"

"What's a mirror?" I mutter, flicking the lighter open and snapping it shut again.

Akon gives a longer pause than he normally would. My eyes shift sideways, leaning towards him, but I don't turn around to look. It feels like he's actually thinking about how to answer me, which is unusual. Most of the time he's quick to mouth off like everyone else is an idiot and he's there to educate them.

"It's something people use to look at themselves," he finally mutters. "It shows their reflection."

Frowning, I rub my thumb over the lighter. "You think hollows need shit like that?"

"Well, when Aizen took over Los Noches?"

I snort dismissively. If _Aizen _brought mirrors with him from Soul Society, I never knew about it. And I wouldn't have cared even if he had and I knew that he had, because I was busy thinking about more important shit. Like when was the next time I got to pulverize Kurosaki.

"You must have seen one at some point since coming here," Akon continues persistently.

"Why's it fuckin' matter?" I grouse impatiently.

"I'm curious."

_And so are you,_ are his unspoken words. I just shrug, my shoulders bumping against his side. Maybe I had and maybe I hadn't. If I had I wasn't paying attention, because I was focused on whatever shinigami happened to be around me at the time. Not to mention that I spent most of my time in my room, in Kira's office, or on rooftops around Seireitei.

"What do you think of your reflection?" he asks after a moment. My brows furrow at the question, but I remain silent as I stare at the silver lighter. I see something small, with a shock of blue and something noticeably white. I'm guessing that's my "reflection," but I don't understand why it looks so. . ._fucking insignificant_. Why is it _so fucking small?_ It makes no sense whatsoever, and my brow knots that much tighter as I bring the lighter closer to my face. I stare at the something-white, slowly realizing that it resembles a jaw bone.

Reaching up, I touch that part of my face. I'm not surprised to find that it's the remains of my hollow mask, but I'm surprised to acknowledge it with my own eyes (even if it is the second time that I've looked at this lighter).

But instead of voicing that, I settle for this: "I think that it's no wonder you can't get enough of me."

Akon chuckles, raspy and deep. My head jerks with the movement of his stomach, and I turn to grin at him proudly. He smirks down at me, his gaze lazily content as he brushes a strand of my hair with his finger. He takes one more drag of his cigarette and then he extends his arm, holding it between his fingers as an offering to me. I stare at the thing defensively as I remember my first experience with a cigarette, but his watchful eyes feel too much like a challenge for me to decline.

I tilt my head obligingly and Akon puts the cigarette between my lips. Pinching it between my fingers, I turn my head so I can stare at the wall as I inhale. It burns like the first time, but it isn't as bad as I remembered. Probably because this time I knew what to expect.

Coughing slightly, I scowl at the cigarette and exhale in a rush. The expelled smoke billows around me, languid and opaque, and Akon runs his fingers through my hair. He scratches over my scalp slowly, then rubs my ear between his fingers.

Shivering, I relax against him with drooping eyes. I take one more experimental drag of his cigarette, and then I pass it back to him.

Smoke and mirrors are just two of the things that he introduced me to.

FIN


End file.
